


Drowning in Fire

by Arenoptara, h34rt1lly (LILYisatig3r), LILYisatig3r



Series: Seifie/Selfer "Drowning in Fire" Universe [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst, Conspiracy, Cuties, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 119,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arenoptara/pseuds/Arenoptara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LILYisatig3r/pseuds/h34rt1lly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LILYisatig3r/pseuds/LILYisatig3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over. Everyone seems to have moved on, but for Selphie and Seifer, it's still waging. In the wake of an increasingly unsettled world state, the two of them find their lives intertwined once more, and end up discovering the real solution they've desperately been looking for [The Successor Challenge 2016].</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posted all at once after initial posting on ff.net. LILYisatig3r and I finally collaborated on something!!! (I'm also writing some post-DiF vignettes that will be posted sometime in the next few weeks.)
> 
> I write the chapters from Selphie's POV, and Lily writes from Seifer's POV.

Fourteen days since the swirling void of time had spat him back out into the world like a discarded piece of trash. Flashes of the past few months were still coming back to him, staggering like a drunk in their lack of clarity. Fourteen days since she’d retracted her barbed claws from the depths of his soul, leaving jagged holes that seeped, not just his literal blood, but the very essence of who he’d been. 

He still heard whispers of her voice; the rich, sultry timbre constantly echoed across the empty expanse of his mind, unforgiving and unrelenting. The remnants of her drove him to insanity. He saw her everywhere. She was in everything he touched, everything he heard; she was in the very air he breathed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever escape her presence.

What he wouldn’t give to be free from her clutches. Or, barring that, what he wouldn’t give to be back in the past, when he had power, a purpose, a life that had felt fulfilled. He may not have been in full control of his mind, but he’d had everything he’d ever wanted, and that seemed like a fair trade to him. 

Or at least, it had at the time. Now, with the advantage of hindsight, he wasn’t quite as sure.

No, instead of his ideal situation, he was back in Balamb. Back where everything began, only a few miles away from the place that he’d spent the majority of his life. Despite how badly he’d wanted to escape this Hyne-forsaken island and move on to bigger, better things, somehow he’d still ended up returning.

Life could be unforgivingly ironic, and the thought filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

It didn’t help that, most nights, he never got more than three or four hours of sleep. Every second he was unconscious, his mind was riddled with the same haunting images— _or were they more like memories?_ —that tormented him during his waking hours. After fourteen nights of absolute hell, he figured, why even bother anymore? 

Restless and searching for a solution, he’d started walking along the beach just outside of town. There was something eerily calming about watching the ocean ebb and flow in the dark hours of the night. The inky blackness stretched on for miles until it disappeared into the horizon. Sometimes he’d stop and feel compelled to stare off into the distance for what felt like hours. Tonight, the moon was full, and the surface of the water glowed with an ethereal light. It was haunting.

Occasionally, he let himself ruminate over his thoughts. Other times he didn’t. A blank, quiet mind was rare for him, but when it did occur, the sweet relief it offered was practically a miracle. If he’d ever been religious, he might’ve fallen to his knees and shouted his thanks to the sky above.

Like every night over the past two weeks, that’s where he was now, trudging through the sand with his steel-toed boots. The almost inaudible shifting of the grains beneath his feet was swallowed entirely by the crashing of the waves against the shore slightly farther down. Aside from the cacophony of the tide, there were no other sounds. 

About halfway down the beach, Seifer collapsed onto the sand. With a sigh, he stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Out of habit, he craned his neck back and stared up at the glittering field of stars above him. A brief moment of peace, of blissful silence, filtered through his mind, and he nearly smiled at the prospect of getting some sleep tonight if it remained. It would be the first night in fourteen days.

When the first tendrils of her presence crept into the edges of his thoughts, he squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. 

_Not again_ , he pleaded, desperate even in his thoughts. _Not yet._

She never listened to him—not then, and not now. Her voice increased in volume, and he leaned forward, pulling his knees close to his body as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. It hurt, but if the pain worked to distract him from her, then it was worth it.

_P o o r . . . p o o r . . . b o y . . ._

He ground his hands into his eyes even harder, and when the intensified pain still didn’t help, he shot to his feet with a frustrated shout. His cry reverberated across the surface of the ocean, ghosting back to him in a sad, disturbing imitation of what was happening in his brain right at this very moment. 

_Damn it, not again!_

Desperate for an escape, he rushed forward into the waves, wading farther into the cold depths. He barely even noticed the frigid temperature. His trenchcoat—which was already heavy under normal circumstances, let alone soaked through—dragged him under the surface as soon as his foot slipped off of the subaquatic precipice. 

The second he was completely engulfed by the sea, everything went quiet. It was strange just how euphoric the complete absence of sound could be. 

As he drifted downwards, he gazed up at the night sky, warped by the thin layer of ocean that separated him and his view. He hadn’t made it far when a glowing ring of gold appeared in his peripheral. His eyes watched it move across his vision, mesmerized by the unnatural sight. When it floated a little farther, a vibrant turquoise and a soft, diffused illumination joined the gilded light, and he realized that Garden was flying overhead. 

Unable to process the whys of it—why now; why in this direction; where were they going?—his mind, exhausted from the lack of any true rest the past two weeks, took this opportunity to shut itself down. As he sunk further beneath the surface, his eyes slid shut once more. 

It wasn’t so bad down here. There were no sounds, no voices; he didn’t have people nagging him about how he was doing every minute of the day. 

As much as he knew Fujin and Raijin meant well, it got on his nerves how they just wouldn’t leave him alone. He was constantly under watch, and if they knew he left town and came all the way out to the beach every single night, they’d probably flay him alive. 

Well, Fujin definitely would. 

When he felt himself begin to lose consciousness, for some odd reason, his survival instinct didn’t kick in. Instead of fighting to return to the surface, to be able to breath again, he thought, _Just a little bit longer._

A little bit longer never came. A few seconds later, he fell into limbo—not quite conscious, yet not fully gone, either. The last thing he remembered feeling was pressure around his forearm in a few separate places—like fingers gripping him tightly—and then an uncomfortable tugging sensation.

And then the world fell away.

  


_One week later._

  


“Seifer, I mean, you can talk to me about it, ya know?”

With his legs dangling over the edge of the pier, Seifer let out an exasperated sigh. He adjusted the length of his fishing line, trying to collect his thoughts before he replied, “I know, Rai. I just … I can’t yet.”

On the other side of the pier, behind and to the right of him, his friend shrugged his massive shoulders. “I get that. But . . . Fuu wasn’t too happy when I told her about what happened, ya know? She thinks I’m not watchin’ you enough.”

Seifer ground his teeth and pulled his line all the way in. Pulling his legs up to stand, he exclaimed, “You two don’t have to babysit me, damn it! I’m not a kid!”

Before Seifer could jump to his feet, Raijin laid a hand on his shoulder. Even through the thickness of his coat, he could feet the heat radiating from the larger man’s palm. “Yo, I’m not tryin’ to pry. I know I don’t have the first clue about what you’re goin’ through, but we just wanna help you, ya know? We can’t do that if you don’t trust us.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think findin’ you tryin’ to drown yourself is fine, ya know?”

“I wasn’t trying to drown myself! For the last time, I’m _fine_.”

A beat passed. “Fuu and I are just worried about ya,” Raijin said quietly.

At that, Seifer’s sudden bout of anger quickly dissipated, and he slowly lowered his legs over the edge of the pier once more. Shame filled him for snapping at his friend when he knew that Raijin only meant well. He looked back at Raijin and nodded, unable to verbalise his thanks or the apology he felt he owed. Raijin tightened his grip on Seifer’s shoulder briefly before letting go and facing the water again.

A few minutes passed before his friend noted, “You’re gettin’ better at this, ya know?”

“At what? Fishing?” Seifer asked, putting a new piece of bait on the end of his line before casting it out.

“Yeah! How many have you caught today?”

“Just the one from earlier.”

“Oh . . . well, that’s better than the last time you tried, right?”

Seifer let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.” His friend’s words took a second to register, but when they did, he looked over his shoulder. “Wait, how many have _you_ caught?”

Raijin didn’t respond, just shifted on the pier. Seifer glanced down at the crate beside Raijin, and when he saw three or four fish in the bin, he let out a frustrated growl. “What the hell?”

With a sympathetic look on his face, Raijin said, “You move too much, man. Makes the fish antsy. You gotta sit here and let ‘em come to _you_.”

He ran his hands through his hair, grabbing the longer-than-usual ends briefly before letting his hand fall back into his lap. “I can’t help it. This shit takes forever.”

“You don’t gotta fish with me, ya know. We can do something else.”

_Yeah, and hear her again when I don’t have you around to talk to me? No thanks._ Instead of voicing his thoughts, he said, “Nah, I don’t mind it. I’m just pissed that . . . I don’t know. I’ll get better.”

Raijin laughed. “Everythin’s a challenge to you.”

Seifer shrugged, unapologetic. That was just how he was. He felt this driving need to be the best at everything he did. Handling his gunblade better than Squall handled his, being in charge, being the only student in history to fail the SeeD exam three times … being the only ex-student to try and take over the world with a crazy, evil sorceress. 

Feeling uncharacteristically pathetic, Seifer shook his head in annoyance. Every time he let his thoughts run rampant, they always somehow came back to the same place. He was damn sick of it.

In a vain attempt at getting his mind to go elsewhere, he piped up and asked, “So how long’s Fujin gonna be gone, anyway?”

Raijin let out a sigh. “I don’t know, man. She said a few days, but last time it was a little longer.”

“Where’d she go again?”

“Dollet.”

“Dollet? What the hell for?”

“She found some part-time job thing after we, uh . . . after the war. She has to go back to check in with her boss every few weeks.”

“Huh. Never saw her as the working type.”

Again, Raijin shrugged. “Not much else to do around _here_. She got restless.”

Out of everything else that could’ve been a reason for Fujin, Seifer understood that the most. “You didn’t wanna go with her?”

“Well, she said things might line up later on and maybe I could sign up, too. For now, though, fishing’s workin’ out just fine for me. ‘Sides, I’m watchin’ you.”

Seifer almost rolled his eyes, but the action always reminded him of Rinoa when she didn’t get her way, back when they’d been together. He resisted the urge and scoffed instead. “I’m not—”

“—a kid, I know.” Raijin finished for him. “But I don’t wanna leave you alone, ya know?” 

“Yeah, sure, Rai. It’s your call.” Seifer reeled in his line again—sans fish—before packing up his rod and the tiny cooler that held all of his bait. He rose to his feet and said, “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll catch up with you later?”

He was already making his way back down the pier, so he waved his hand in the air in response. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to continue fishing, or even that he didn’t want to spend time with Raijin, but every time his friend probed and asked questions about how he was doing today, or whether he’d gotten any sleep, he just got frustrated. 

It was difficult not to snap at him, because it _was_ incredibly annoying, but he knew Raijin meant well. He was self-aware enough to know he was an asshole, but he wasn’t _that_ big of an asshole. At least, he was trying not to be. He’d been there, done that, and he wasn’t about to pull that move again. 

Putting some distance between them was the next best alternative, so whenever Raijin’s concern meter was close to maxing out, Seifer would go off and do something on his own for a few hours. After dropping off his fishing equipment at the little run-down house that Fujin and Raijin lived in—that he was also bumming at—he changed into lighter clothes and left town. 

Now that his friend wasn’t nearby to fill the silence with his chatter, Seifer’s mind was inundated with his usual thoughts. He walked towards the beach at a brisk pace, trying to stem the tide of incoherent images and memories that threatened to flood his mind. When the grass beneath his feet transitioned into grains of sand, he let out a sigh of discontent. Quickly, he stretched his legs before pushing off into a run parallel to the shoreline.

He tried to focus on nothing else but the harsh, regular pattern of his breaths as they left him. The sand offered a level of resistance that pushed his workout further than he was used to, and he reveled in the intense pull of his muscles. It wasn’t like the events of the past six months had left time to hit the gym.

An hour later, when the sun was mid-way towards dipping below the horizon, he reached the other end of the beach, chest heaving and lungs burning. Hunching over at the waist, he propped his hands on his thighs as he fought to catch his breath. When his heart stopped pounding and settled on a more regular beat, he straightened and made his way up the incline and back towards the Alcauld Plains. 

As he headed for the walking path that led back to town, the air shifted from cool and mild, to thick and heated, and he glanced to his right in confusion. When the molten glow of the Fire Cavern caught his eye, he halted in mid-step. He hadn’t realized that he’d run this far, or that he’d ended up so close.

He stared intently at the entrance of the Cavern, frozen by the sight of a place that had played such a large role in his journey. Despite what Quistis and the rest of his peers had thought, he _had_ studied immensely for the field test. Acing the GF prep test had been a moment of true pride for him, and discovering his propensity for the element had been an added bonus. Since he hadn’t passed the exam, he’d never gotten to junction a GF on a regular basis, but while using Ifrit during the mission in Dollet, he’d felt this strange, deep connection to the entity. Whether it was because they both burned from within due to some unidentifiable source, or because it had been the only GF he’d ever gained for himself, he wasn’t sure. And now, he’d never get to find out.

Those thoughts threatened to spiral out of control, and rather than giving into his regrets and the past, he turned away from the Cavern and headed back towards town. He’d only made it a few steps when he realized that his peripheral view to the right was oddly empty. Again, he stopped.

It only took a second for him to figure out what had felt so off: Garden wasn’t parked in its usual location. In its place was a giant crater, the ground splintered with clefts running from the epicenter in all directions. Though he knew the now-mobile structure had survived the missile assault, the sight left him feeling unsettled. If they hadn’t somehow figured out how to get moving, he would’ve been seeing something else entirely—broken, scattered remnants of his childhood home, bodies littering the ground. 

The way Trabia Garden must’ve looked.

The morbid vision came out of nowhere, and with it, so did her voice. 

_A job well done, my Knight. I have never been more proud,_ she had said to him, after he brought reports of Trabia’s status. Her inhumanly cold hands had cupped his cheek, and like the pathetic child—the loyal lapdog—he had been, he’d leaned into her touch.

He sucked in a ragged breath as he shut her and the memory out, raising his mental walls in an attempt to regain his ground. Agitated, he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes again as he tried to control his breathing. In, out, even rhythm. It was harder than he thought it would be.

When he finally felt under control, he opened his eyes, his mouth set into a thin line. Refusing to fall under her spell again, even now, after she was gone, he broke out into another run. This time, he pushed himself even harder than he had before, desperate to escape her yet again. His speed propelled him towards town, and he flew under the archway that marked the entrance in just under an hour. 

He’d been running faster than he usually did, and as a result, he didn’t slow down near the entrance as per usual. As he was flying past a doorway, someone stepped out of their home and he collided with them. 

“Holy Hyne! Watch where you’re going, man!” 

Lost in his thoughts, Seifer didn’t even spare the guy a glance. He just lightly pushed them aside as he muttered a half-hearted apology and kept walking towards Fujin and Raijin’s house. By now, Raijin was likely done fishing and was home preparing dinner. Usually, it was Fujin that cooked, seeing as how Raijin had a tendency to burn every single thing he put on the stove, but since she was gone, Raijin had taken up the role. Seifer thought about offering, but he knew it made his friend feel better to have a responsibility, something he could do to help, despite how much Seifer tried to insist that he didn’t need it.

As he was passing the street that led to the train station, a piece of paper fluttering in the light breeze caught his attention. A small job board had been posted at the crossroads just after the war; the town’s population had dwindled ever-so-slightly, due to the need for aid in other cities. Now that people were moving back home, the demand for jobs was on the rise. 

He paused on his way past and yanked the paper out from under the pushpin. Before he had a chance to read the ad, the sound of someone grumbling rather loudly floated down the street. When he glanced up, he saw the person he’d run into pacing back and forth in front of their house, wringing their hands in the air exuberantly—he’d never seen anyone move that much, except for _one_ person.

_No. No fuckin’ way._ He squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of the person’s face. They turned away from him, but when he saw the trademark, bright blonde spikes, he practically tripped over himself. _Hyne-damn it! What the hell is he doin’ here?_

Pivoting on his heel, he scurried away from the train station, the forgotten advertisement clasped tightly in his hand. When he made it safely past the hotel, he slowed down and peeked around the corner. It didn’t seem like he’d been spotted, and he let out a sigh of relief. Not that he was running away, of course not, but he didn’t want to answer _even more_ questions about his life—especially not from him.

With a grunt, he pushed himself off of the wall and continued on his way home. Finally remembering that he still held the ad in his hand, he lifted it to his face and read the tagline as he walked: _“OPEN POSITION ON FISHING BOAT. LONG HOURS, GOOD PAY.”_

He scoffed in disinterest as he balled up the paper in his hand, ready to toss it over his shoulder. Just before he threw it, something stopped him, and he opened it back up to re-read the advertisement. 

_Fishing boat, huh?_ he mused, contemplating the idea.

He was still shit at fishing, but there were other tasks that needed to be done on a craft like that. Menial work, mostly, but those were usually things that kept people busy, and Seifer _had_ to be busy. “Long hours” the paper said, which meant spending most of his time on the open water, surrounded by people who were less likely to recognize him or ask him invading questions. Hyne, he hated invading questions. 

It also meant leaving this town behind. For the briefest of moments, he wondered whether that was really what he wanted; a new start, a new life somewhere else, as someone else. The fact that he’d seen someone he knew today meant that he may not have a choice. This job was potentially his ticket out.

He was still weighing the pros and cons when he pushed open the door to Fujin and Raijin’s house. Immediately, his nostrils were violated by the raunchy scent of fish, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

“What the hell are you cookin’, Raijin?” he called out.

His friend popped his head out of the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Balamb Fish, ya know? Right after you left, I caught one! It’s gonna be the best dinner ever!”

Seifer suppressed a groan. Balamb Fish was his friend’s favorite dish, but Hyne, how he hated the smell. He set the ad down on the table as he pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and rolled it up in his hands. “I’m gonna go shower first.”

Raijin nodded in acknowledgement. Before Seifer walked out of the room, Raijin jerked his head towards the table. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Seifer followed Raijin’s gaze towards the paper. “Oh, nothing. Something I picked up on the way home.”

“If it ain’t important, you might wanna toss it, ya know? Fuu hates clutter, and if it’s still there when she gets home, she’s gonna throw a fit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving his hand in the air in dismissal as he headed for the bathroom.

Somehow, that little, incredibly brief conversation about the paper lying on their table pushed him to make a decision. Maybe a job wouldn’t be so bad after all. He might not have to leave right away, but it would at least open a door to the possibility, one he foresaw himself taking advantage of in the future. 

Maybe, just maybe, Fujin hadn’t been so crazy when she’d decided to find a job.

  


_Two months later._

  


Seifer sat in the corner of the u-shaped bench in the cramped cabin of the boat, his hands cradled around a mug of cold coffee. He’d never been good at waiting patiently, but he liked to think he masked it well. At least he was better than Chickenwuss and didn’t jump around in the corner, or pace back and forth. Instead, he tapped his finger against the rim of the mug, occasionally letting his leg bounce before he clamped the urge down. 

Eighteen, almost nineteen years of age, was far too young to be feeling this jaded and confused with life.

After a few minutes of staring off into space, he ran his hand through his hair—the ends were nearly to the base of his neck now. The fleeting thought of getting a haircut flitted across his mind, before he let out a deep sigh and downed the remnants of his drink. He slid to the end of the bench and rose to his feet, pushing the steel door to the hatch open with a squeal. 

Across the bow, he spotted a figure leaning over the edge of the boat. A wisp of smoke was curling upwards into the air just in front of them, and Seifer made his way over to join them. When he approached, they turned at the sound of his footsteps and he saw that it was Marcus, the boat’s skipper. 

Marcus nodded in greeting and Seifer returned the gesture before leaning back against the hull. “Bum one off you?” he asked, gesturing towards the cigarette that was perched on Marcus’ lip.

Without a word, Marcus pulled one out and handed it and his lighter over to Seifer. Once it was lit and he’d taken a drag, he handed the lighter back to Marcus before turning around and propping his elbows up on the railing.

They gazed out at the mist-covered ocean in amiable silence. Though Seifer wouldn’t necessarily consider any of the men on this boat a friend, they’d built up a sense of camaraderie over the past couple of months. Out here, everyone had to know whether the rest of the crew had their backs, and in turn, had to show that they were willing to do their part as well. Without that sense of community, of trust, they’d all be at the bottom of the ocean by now.

He took another drag, relishing in the burn as it left a fiery trail down his throat. Before this job, he’d never smoked a day in his life. Being surrounded by the smell, and being the only person in the group who didn’t smoke, had compelled him to give it a try. The added bonus of the chemicals relieving the chaos of his mind enough to let it rest for once was also nice.

A few minutes later, after he’d tossed the butt into the water, he straightened and faced Marcus, intending on asking him how much longer they had until they arrived. This was the first time he’d been on this route with the crew, and he wasn’t intending on returning to Balamb with them when they departed. 

Before he could get a word out, from the bridge the captain called out, “Destination ahead! Prepare to dock!”

Marcus raised his hand to Seifer in mock-salute before heading to his post. Seifer remained in place, staring ahead at the thick fog that still permeated the air. As if on cue, when the pointed tip of the prow pierced the veil, it dissipated, revealing the coast up ahead. The burnt, russet cliffs were so different from the lush, verdant plains of Balamb, that the sight almost confused him at first. Excitement replaced that confusion, and he tightened his grip on the railing. 

Their destination was the cove just south of the only town on this side of the continent. Just past the beach, the rust-colored hills gave way to a small plain, the only sign of life aside from the town itself. It was isolated and quiet, and the inhabitants likely didn’t care about what had gone on in the rest of the world over the past few months.

It was perfect.

When the captain barked at Seifer to help prepare for landing, he pushed away from the railing and joined the rest of the crew. About a half an hour later, they were anchored, and a ramp was propped over the edge of the boat. Every crew member carried a crate of product with them when they disembarked, and Seifer was no different. The only difference between he and them was that he had a bag that contained his entire life slung over his shoulder. 

Per superstition, the captain was the last to step off the boat. Seifer waited until the rest of the crew headed up the path towards town before he faced the captain. Once the man locked eyes with Seifer, he crossed his arms and motioned for Seifer to speak. 

Before Seifer said his goodbyes, he bent down and placed the crate on the sand. “I just wanted to . . . you know, for letting me on the boat and all.”

The captain nodded, knowing what Seifer was trying to say. With a grunt and a matching nod, Seifer picked up the crate again and faced the town. Its homes, so vastly different from the ones in Balamb, greeted him with white facades and sepia roof tiles. Its streets, paved with stones that weren’t unlike the ones in the city he’d left behind, waited for him to walk across them. He took a deep breath and headed up the path, keeping his eyes on his destination, his end goal. 

Up ahead, his new life awaited.


	2. Chapter 2

They skipped down the hall, hand-in-hand, one laughing, the other giggling. Almost before it was too late, Selphie stopped at her door, and Irvine came snapping back into her. They laughed some more, and then getting on her tiptoes and grabbing his collar to pull him down a little, she kissed him. It was just a little one, and Irvine tried to keep it going a little longer, but she easily escaped and slapped the back of her hand on the wall panel that controlled and opened the door. She backed up a few steps to stand in the doorway, smiling at Irvine.

Irvine took off his hat, pressed it against his chest, and bowed. “Until tomorrow,” he said, grinning when he straightened up.

Selphie only smiled and gave a little wave. Then she backed up some more, and the door closed. With a sigh, she pressed her back against it, eyes alight. Everything was over now. And she’d just come back from one of the best parties of her life. All her friends were there, safe, happy--especially Rinoa and Squall. She cursed mentally again at the camera battery for dying right before it snagged the scene of them kissing. But, it also missed Irvine and Selphie’s kisses, so maybe none of them were meant to be on record.

They got the rest though. A shot of everyone. Everyone happy.

Her eyes drifted up to the dark ceiling, and the more she thought about the smiling faces of the others, even remembering her own glee, the more this lump in her stomach grew. It was grey and wrinkled and it made her feel sad.

Selphie put her hands up in the air. “Everything’s fine!” she called out enthusiastically to nothing.

The walls and carpet sucked up the noise so fast it felt suffocating.

But her hands fell back to her sides and she stared at her dorm room in confusion. “What’s the matter with me?” She slapped her cheeks a little and did some stretches, but arrived back at the same place that was feeling more dreary with each passing moment.

With a sigh, she collapsed on her bed, limbs spread out over her comforter, eyes locked on the poster stuck to her ceiling: an artist’s rendition of the guardian force Leviathan she’d bought from one of the students at Garden the first day she’d arrived. How long ago was that now? Less than a year, she was sure, but it felt so much longer than that. Rinoa still had Leviathan, didn’t she? No one had unjunctioned their GFs yet, but they couldn’t wait forever. They’d made an oath, hadn’t they? They couldn’t forget anymore.

Selphie rolled over to the shelving unit the wall beside her bed. Her GFs were there, maybe sleeping, or whatever they did when she wasn’t using them. The four stones were different colors: red for Ifrit, black for Diablos, green for Cactuar, and grey for Cerberus. She’d always been partial to Ifrit; they got along so well, and they had the most compatibility than anyone else in the group, even Zell. She reached out and picked his stone up now, running a thumb over the surprisingly smooth surface.

“I don’t want to forget anyone,” she murmured, pulling the stone closer, holding it in two hands against her chest. “Ever again.”

Her eyes closed. In the stillness, in the quiet of her room, there was nothing to block out the image of her face: Ultimecia’s. Selphie winced and tried to push it away, but in its place came a thousand more images, many of them of Trabia, or her friends getting hurt, feeling the fear that she might die and never see any of them ever again . . .

Selphie gasped and opened her eyes. The GFs could make her forget all that, but she couldn’t pick and choose memories. _So how do I keep them, but lose you?_ The others had gone to Dr. Kadowaki after their medical exams; she thought a psych eval was important. But when Selphie went to hers, she just made Dr. Kadowaki promise to tell the others that Selphie had actually gone, and then she left.

Telling the others how she felt would only drag them down. It wasn’t like when they lost the quad, or when the missiles hit Trabia. This was everything together. And if she told anyone, she might explode. She had decided a long time ago that one of her purposes in life was to keep her friends happy, to make sure they were doing okay.

_I can’t just stop . . ._ Selphie curled into a tight ball and shut her eyes again. _I can deal with it. I just have to . . ._ Sweat broke out over her skin, cold and unforgiving, but she kept her eyes closed, let the images swirl in her brain, trying to fight them away because she was Selphie, and no one could defeat her. Ultimecia, Edea, Galbadia, the Ultima and Omega Weapons, and Seifer, they had tried, and all of them had failed. She wouldn’t let anyone defeat her.

With another gasp, her body spasmed and her eyes flashed open. _Why is it coming back now. I’ve been fine . . . the party . . . How do I stop it . . . Need to make it go away . . ._ Her fingers’ grip tightened on the summoning stone.

Her spine curved abruptly so she was sitting. The stone grew warm in her hand, Ifrit probably thinking she wanted to summon him. “No, no,” she whispered with a tiny smile. “No, I’m fine.” She leaned over and set him back on the shelf with the others. “Can’t rely on you anymore,” she continued. “Not all the time.” _Maybe in emergencies . . . Instead of constant junctioning . . . I’ll have to ask Quistis about that._

Quistis was still at the party, probably wasted by now. She’d been deep in conversation with someone about something boring, and the last time Selphie saw her, she’d been a little tipsy already. Seeing Quistis drunk sounded like too much fun. If the camera batteries hadn’t died and Selphie knew offhand where some replacements were, she might have gone back to film a little.

It was something to do. Kept her mind busy even just thinking about it.

Selphie looked down at her hands, now empty. Even a little callused from overusing Strange Vision over the course of the war, and not even from all the battles. She’d trained a lot in her free time. _I’ve always been restless._ Now it was different, though. The GFs couldn’t help her anymore, and her friends were all tired, so she couldn’t burden them with her problems. That left SeeD work, or rebuilding Trabia, helping Ser Laguna in Esthar . . . She’d have to do it all herself, and she thirsted even for the idea of the challenges she would face.

And they would keep her mind busy. All of her busy, actually. And really, that’s what everyone expected Selphie to do: constantly moving, constantly working. So they wouldn’t worry about her if she was doing what they expected her to do, right?

The door buzzed.

Selphie shook her head vigorously, put on a smile, and hopped over to the door. The smile became genuine when she saw Rinoa standing there, hands behind her back--Squall was there too, behind Rinoa, probably holding one of the hands hidden from Selphie’s view. They looked nice together. And Squall was glowing, actually smiling, something Selphie had only seen a handful of times, and always in a way he was trying to hide it. Well, he wasn’t now.

“Hey!” Selphie greeted.

“Some of us are going to the 2F balcony to play some Triple Triad,” Rinoa said gently. “You want to come?”

Rinoa was terrible at Triple Triad. Selphie had won most of Rinoa’s cards away. In fact, she might not have had enough cards for a full deck now.

_Guess that’s what Squall’s for._ Selphie giggled a little to herself but shook her head. “Nah, I’m pooped! I promised Irvine I would go for a walk with him tomorrow morning, and if you know Irvine, you know he’ll most likely spend most of the time chasing me or something. Trying to get smooches. Ha. Ha ha!”

Rinoa giggled a little, and behind her Squall made a face that would have been covered with a hand if Rinoa hadn’t claimed both of his hands for her own.

“All right. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow,” Rinoa said.

Selphie mock saluted. “Sounds like a plan!”

Both Rinoa and Squall waved and began wandering off down the hall, Squall looking down at her like he’d literally never seen a more beautiful thing in his life. That was probably true, now that Selphie thought about it.

She watched them a couple seconds more, then closed the door. Her forehead came forward until it rested against the door.

Spending time with them all would work for about a week before Selphie went crazy. She would bear with them for that long, and then she would ask--beg, if she had to--Squall for an assignment. The war may only have ended a week or two ago, but Selphie had to keep moving. And even if she wouldn’t always be with the people she had grown up with, the people she loved more than anything, she would still remember them, and they would all be happy.

  


_Six Days Later_

  


Only yesterday, Garden had returned to Balamb, albeit not where it used to sit. After dropping off those who wanted to visit the town, it flew a little ways out over the water, just out of seeing distance. The visit was quite temporary. A lot of students wanted some of the familiar, especially Zell. He’d been the first one to disembark.

Selphie, too, was planning on leaving Garden, but for entirely different purposes. At her request, Squall had taken time away from Rinoa to speak with her in the headmaster’s office. Quistis was there too, also at Selphie’s request. The two of them faced Selphie now, Squall somewhat warily, and Quistis with her arms folded, betraying no emotion at all.

“I’d like an assignment,” Selphie said immediately.

Squall blinked in surprise, and Quistis looked at him intently. His eyebrows furrowed a moment and then he said, “We haven’t received any requests for SeeD.”

“Why not? The war just ended,” Selphie said. “Shouldn’t we help clean up the mess we made?”

“The mess _we_ made?” Squall said in slight surprise. “I suppose we did somewhat.”

“If there’s no contracts, then send me somewhere as an offer of aid,” Selphie said. She bounced on her heels. “Like Trabia. They need all the help they can get.”

Quistis, still looking at Squall, said quietly, “That’s actually the perfect assignment.”

Squall glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and then focused on Selphie again. “Like you said, the war just ended. Dr. Kadowaki has suggested rest for all of us at Garden, especially those of us who fought Ultimecia. Don’t you want some down time?”

“Not when there’s things to do,” Selphie said, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “We can still do a lot of good, and I want to be out there _doing_. You know how much Trabia means to me. You guys don’t need me here right now.”

Quistis smiled and looked at Selphie with gentle eyes. “A valid point.”

Squall waved a hand in the air. “I know what happens to those who get in your way. If you have a mission, you’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish it.” He, too, gave her a tiny smile, and it was so jarring to Selphie to see a rare Squall smile directed at _her_. She almost let out a little squeak, but swallowed it down and nodded vigorously in agreement with him.

“If you’re going, you shouldn’t go alone,” Quistis said.

For a moment, Selphie was afraid she might say Irvine’s name. There was nothing wrong with Irvine; Selphie loved him. But his dreams were different than hers, and honestly, he would just get in the way. It was better for them to do their own separate things. That way there was less heartbreak. She could never be what he wanted her to be. Once he understood that, then he could find his dream for himself.

She wasn’t looking forward to _that_ goodbye.

“Take Nida,” Quistis said. “He’s been itching to do something other than drive Garden.”

“Nida?” Selphie frowned a little.

“He’s taught a few others how to drive Garden, so he’s available,” Quistis said.

Squall just nodded in vague agreement.

That was fine, she supposed. Nida wouldn’t get in the way. He was rather good at standing in the background as an almost invisible support. One time he may have even given Squall a pep speech, but Selphie wasn’t really paying attention to _him_ during that whole G-Garden crisis in Centra.

“I’ll catch the next boat,” Selphie said. “Should get there in no time at all. I know the land around Trabia like the back of my hand.” She even lifted it up for them, as if it was some kind of proof just showing it.

Quistis laughed a little. “We can just drop you off with Garden. It should take half the time to get there.”

Squall nodded. “Soon as we head off again. We shouldn’t be here for very much longer.”

Selphie clenched her jaw, but smiled and nodded. “Right. Thank you, guys. It means a lot.”

The two stared at her curiously, but before they said anything, Selphie quickly hopped up and down and pointed at Squall. “Hey! I almost forgot. Since you’re Commander, and all, I guess you can’t be in charge of the festival committee while I’m gone. But I expect you to find a suitable replacement, you know. You made me a promise.”

Squall cringed a little. “Right. Of course, Selphie.”

“Good,” Selphie said. “I have to start packing and all that. Talk to . . . Nida.”

“He’s down in the cafeteria,” Quistis said. “I was just having lunch with him.”

As soon as Selphie was out of sight, hidden in the confines of the elevator, she let out a huge breath. Once the elevator got far down enough, and the wall turned to glass, she looked out over the main room, at the water fountains glistening under the Garden lamps. It was emptier than usual with all the students over in the city. When she got out of the elevator, all she heard was the fountains, the gentle rush and slosh of the water. She walked over to one of the railings and looked out over its crystal blue surface.

_They’re going to think they’ll see me again in no time at all. But I don’t plan on seeing them again for awhile. By the time they realize that, they’ll all be doing their own things. And when I finally do see them again, I’ll be better. They won’t have to worry. It’ll all just eventually go away and get better. Is has to . . ._

Her eyes closed a little. A shard of ice penetrated her mind--no, penetrated Squall. And he was falling, falling . . .

She gripped the edges of the railing and opened her eyes, let the water console her. “All that’s over now,” she whispered to herself. “Everyone’s safe . . .”

In time compression, she saw everything. But it wasn’t images in her head; it all looked real, like she was actually reliving it again. It surrounded her as she tried to find her friends, to find her way back to this time. The others hadn’t spoken about their experiences. Maybe it was easy for them. Maybe time compression didn’t really bother them. But Selphie had become lost. Every road led back to the missile base, to that moment she thought she had lost her friends and herself. That she had failed everyone she could possibly fail.

_I still don’t remember how I made it back . . . Why can I remember everything else, but not_ that.

“Everyone’s safe now,” she repeated more firmly and lifted her head. “So am I.”

She sighed. “Better go find Nida.” She pushed away from the railing, put her hands behind her back, and began wandering in the direction of the cafeteria.

_Train, Train, take us away._

Nida was sitting alone near the wall, a book in his hand, a cup of coffee before him. He glanced up over the pages to Selphie in surprise.

She slammed her hand down on the table. “You better start packing, what’s-your-face, because we are heading to Trabia.”

“W-what?” Nida asked with a blink. He closed the book quietly and set it on the table beside his coffee. “Is something happening? I thought we were going to be here for a few days. I don’t have to steer, do I? I’ve been doing that for weeks straight.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Selphie said dismissively. “No, you and I are going to help rebuild Trabia Garden.”

_Take us away, far away._

“It’ll be awesome!” she said. “Everyone there is great, and they’re extremely hard workers. You have to be at Trabia. Quistis volunteered you, so you’re coming with me. I have so many plans and ideas. We might not get a lot of break time, but it’s not like we’ll want any, because it’ll be so, hmm . . .” Her fingers tapped against her chin. “Right! It’ll be so gratifying!”

Nida’s face scrunched up a little, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did I get assigned to this?”

“You don’t want to be steering Garden, right?” Selphie asked, leaning down, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“I . . .” He moved back a little. “Suppose you’re right.”

“Orders from on high, anyway,” Selphie said, popping up again. “See you then or whatever.”

She turned and bounced away. As time went on, her bounces grew less and less zealous, until she was walking at a sluggish pace, ending up in front of her dorm room door without meaning to. With a sigh, she leaned against her door. _It’s really exhausting being my usual self now . . . Ah, what’s wrong with me? Really? Everyone else is fine. How come I’m going all . . ._

A few students neared near, talking to each other animatedly. When they noticed her, all of them immediately straightened their backs and nodded to her in respect. Only when they were out at the end of the hallway did they return to their conversation.

Selphie frowned. “What was that? Is that how everyone’s going to treat me now? I’m still just Selphie.” She opened the door and went inside. “We all just did what we did because we had to. Not like I was itching for any of it . . . Never wanted a war . . .”

She turned on the lights. “Stop being so down, Selphie!”

Carefully, she considered the summoning stones next to her bed. The others had unjunctioned theirs over the past few days. And while they kept them on hand for emergencies, also thinking that was a good idea, Rinoa had let hers go completely. It made sense; she wasn’t a SeeD or a mercenary at all. She wanted nothing more with war or fighting.

Then there was Selphie, still junctioned, afraid to let them go because they had become too integral to her. Once unjunctioned, she feared she would feel weak, alone, like she had for much of her childhood, even the early, early days of being at Trabia Garden. She had relied so heavily on the GFs, and her friends. Losing both seemed like too much . . .

But that was the only way to defeat time compression, to defeat its lingering presence that even still hung onto her skin by its claws. She had to defeat it herself, because it was rooted in nothing but herself, impervious to the other things she had let in. Only her full potential, unaided by anything else, had the power to break her free.

Selphie gathered the stones in her hands. This was the final step before she left Garden. 

_To the future we will go._

“We’ll see each other again sometime. I don’t know when, but sometime. I’ll never give up on any of you completely,” Selphie whispered.

_Where it leads, no one knows._


	3. Chapter 3

“Train, train,” she sang sleepily. “Take . . . far . . . train . . . Mmmm?”

Someone was nudging her--no, shaking her. She sleepily lifted an arm to fend them off, but they only took her hand and shook her some more. Maybe they were saying her name too. She was so content to sleep, why were they bothering her? How’d they get in her room, anyway? There was supposed to be a lock--

Selphie’s eyes opened. The room sure looked strange. And it was definitely not her bedroom. Everything was so sideways and white. With a groan and a huge yawn, she sat up. That made everything look normal again, even with the film of sleep still over her eyes. She blinked a few more times to get rid of it completely.

The person holding her hand was Nida, and she snatched it back.

“President Laguna was wondering where you were. You missed your weekly meeting,” Nida said.

“Oh,” Selphie said, looking down at the papers she’d fallen asleep on. They all had drool stains. She gave a nervous chuckle and organized them into one pile. “I guess I’ll go find him--” She got to her feet, but Nida put a hand in front of her.

“Maybe you should get some rest,” Nida said.

Selphie sighed and glanced away a moment. It wasn’t like Nida went to those meetings. He was just there, floating around, like he always had been since Quistis assigned him to Selphie. This was a different mission than rebuilding Trabia, but for some reason he was still here. What did he even _do_?

Clearing her throat, Selphie gently moved his arm away and sidestepped around him. Not bothering with a farewell or any words at all, she left the room. Only halfway to the meeting room did she remember checking the time was probably important. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, it being an unplanned sleep. The clock read three hours past the meeting time, and cringing, she continued on her way, but changing destination to go back to her bedroom. If it was so late, she might as well sleep some more, even through till the early morning. After all, she remembered no nightmares or any dreams at all from her nap, so that had to be a good sign.

She’d been in Esthar just shy of four years now, a liaison between Balamb Garden and Esthar, and almost like the head of her own little task force to keep order in the wake of weird threats from nameless organizations. Then there was the anti-Garden propaganda that had been around for almost ten years, starting only a few months after the end of the war. After doing what she could for Trabia, she asked for another assignment, and Quistis, now headmistress of Garden in the wake of Squall stepping down to become a teacher, had given Selphie Esthar. There were few things better than working with Laguna to keep the city safe while also being privy to plans for the new space program--not just a single station anymore.

During those ten years, she’d adjusted her body to getting only about four hours of sleep every night. She managed to get so much work done with those four extra hours every day. Sometimes she used them to wake up early and work out, or she went to sleep late after studying some new information her people had dug up over the course of that day. Today she had slipped up, and she rarely did that. But again, maybe it was a good sign. And after the weird graffiti case they’d been working on the past few weeks finally coming to a close, it seemed like an apt reward to get some extra, peaceful sleep.

As soon as she made it to her room, the tiredness hit her like a punch to the gut and she laughed. She rubbed a hand against the side of her head. “Oh, I’m losing it, aren’t I?” She tossed the papers onto her desk, stretched her arms, and stopped in front of her untouched bed.

Tilting her head to the side, she tried to recall the past few days. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t gotten much sleep through the whole graffiti case. Her bed was made, and there was no room service, so it had to have been her who made it. Sometime.

She put a hand in front of her mouth, and she yawned as she fell on top of the covers.

Her message box beeped at her. Someone was calling.

The sleepiness immediately whisked away, a skill of hers, and she jumped to her feet to answer. Laguna’s face appeared on the screen. He was smiling at something as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes always got so squinty when he smiled, and Selphie loved it.

“Ser Laguna, sir!” Selphie said.

“Selphie,” Laguna said. He gave a little cough and then his eyes opened a little more to their usual size. “Just checking in. You missed our meeting today.”

“Right,” Selphie said. “I should have contacted you, but I fell asleep and I only just woke up. Won’t happen again. The room was just a little warm is all. I tend to fall asleep faster when it’s warm.”

“Ha, right,” Laguna said. “Well, I’m glad to know you’re all right. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Selphie thought a moment and then shook her head. “Nope. I’m doing a-okay. Can we reschedule our meeting for tomorrow, usual time? Hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience, Mr. President, sir.”

Laguna laughed again. “Not an inconvenience at all.”

In the background came Kiros’ voice, calmly reminding Laguna, “You have an appointment at that time tomorrow with the new head of the space division.”

“Ahhhh.” Laguna gave Selphie an apologetic look. “I’ll check my schedule and give you a call back. Maybe you should use this time to take a break.”

Selphie kept her composure, even if her hands curled into fists so tight that her fingernails pressing into her skin hurt. But, of course, her pleasant smile remained on her face, and she hoped the sparkle in her eye did too. “I suppose I need one. Been awhile. Ha.” Been awhile, as in more than two years, and that “break” had only lasted a couple of days. Before and since then, it’d been seemingly nonstop work. But Selphie was fine with that, even preferred it. There was so much to do all the time, necessary or not, so she couldn’t waste time away doing nothing at all. That’s not what life was for, not for her anyway.

_What’s the minimum I can make it this time? Maybe even just a whole day! What will I even do . . . I guess I could sneak out to--_

“I’m actually going to make a reservation for you tonight at my favorite restaurant,” Laguna said suddenly. “Do you want it for one or two?”

Selphie blinked. “Two?”

“Nida,” Laguna reminded, almost a little nervously.

“Oh, right, right . . . Table for one is just perfect, then!” She stretched her smile wider.

Laguna sighed, and it sounded almost like he was relieved. _Is he worrying about me?_ Rather than listen to his farewell and notice the screen going blank--she might have subconsciously bid him farewell herself--she focused on that, how he might have been worrying about her. That was wrong. She was supposed to worry about others, not the other way around. _That’s the whole reason I’m out here, right? The whole reason I joined Garden in the first place . . ._

With a sigh of her own, she wandered back to her bed and flopped down on her side. The alarm clock on her night table read 5:03, which meant she probably had a couple of hours before that dinner reservation. The more she thought about it, the more inviting it sounded. It had been a long time since she’d eaten at a fancy restaurant. 

The last time was a little more than a year ago, the most recent time she’d spent time with Irvine. He was a horrible teacher over at G-Garden, and occasionally the two of them took a day or two out of their schedule to see each other, catch up, and he was so oblivious to most things even now that Selphie found it all right to see him face to face. The others were more perceptive. They might have caught on if they saw her in person. She even suspected Quistis was close to finding out, and she and Selphie only ever talked over a computer screen.

Selphie curled her knees up towards her chest and let her eyes close. _Maybe I can just rest for a moment . . . That . . . that sounds like a . . . good . . ._

  


_Two hours later_

  


Someone woke up her up with a light knock to her door. She sleepily called out for them to come in, and then opened one eye out from under the pillow she had put over her head to see who it was: Nida.

“I asked for a table for one,” she murmured.

Nida gave a small smile and knelt down by her bedside. “If you end up drinking, someone has to walk you home, right?”

“Who?”

With a yawn, Selphie uncurled her body and sat up. Her arms stretched high above her head, and then her back popped. She let out a contented sigh and swung her legs over the bed with no mind to Nida being right there; he just managed to get out of the way. Still in sleep mode, she wandered over to her closet. She opened the doors and then leaned into it, keeping herself up by gripping the sides of the doorway.

“Who says I’m going to drink? I’m the most anti-drinking person you’ll ever meet,” she mumbled as her eyes grazed over the few articles of clothing she owned. She was rather partial to the ones she had, and never wanted to get new ones. She had the funds for it; over ten years of being a SeeD and not spending a whole lot outside of basic necessities and her occasional donation to charities, she had accumulated quite the sizable savings.

“You must have been too drunk to remember all the times I’ve had to walk you home, then,” Nida says.

Selphie just grunted and chose the only somewhat fancy dress she owned--chiffon yellow, as everything in her wardrobe had yellow in it. She changed in the bathroom and brushed her hair and then made her way out--Nida following hastily.

On the way there, she thought about what he said. It wasn’t like her to really heed Nida’s words--ever--but no one else had ever made a comment on her drinking. She’d made sure to hide it as well as she could. Of course Nida would have found out; she could hardly go anywhere without him breathing down her neck. As long as no one found out, it would be okay. They’d worry, maybe wonder if she was drinking too much, which she very likely was, and far too often . . .

Still, at the restaurant, sitting in a booth with dark, wooden tables and red velvet covered benches, she ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer. Not having eaten anything for hours prior, the wine hit her fast and hard, but there was something different about being wine drunk. She ended up stumbling out of the restaurant, Nida pulling on her arm before she gave away her entire life savings to the server as a tip. The service had been great, and the server probably made next to nothing, so what was the problem, really?

She made it home in one piece, Nida escorting her all the way to her room. Before he could say goodbye, the door was closed and she was lying once more on her bed, giggling at nothing in particular, thinking maybe she might drink some water before she fell asleep, but eventually deciding that in this case, not moving was the more preferable option. And then she was out.

 

_Next morning_

  


Four hours later she was awake, head ripe with a hangover that she wished she could hit with a Curaga, but it had been years since she’d had to use any GFs. The last one had been Ifrit, seven years ago, when a horde of monsters attacked her and her party as they were working on the northern part of Trabia’s outer wall. She was good with nunchakus alone, and the others were skilled themselves, but there had simply been too many. It had been so long that her body no longer knew what it felt like to use magic.

All things considered, it was an even trade. But she missed her GFs, and she missed being able to cast magic without even half a thought.

As she was sipping coffee, reading the reports from last night her people had forwarded, another call came in, this one long distance. Selphie tousled her hair to make it look extra bed-heady, brought her knees up onto the chair, slouched back, held her coffee in front of her, and then answered the call. She already knew who it was.

Quistis was just as beautiful as ever, but she had since changed her hair. The trademark long bangs were gone, and all her hair was down, slightly curled, and hanging over one shoulder. The morning was long gone from her face, and Selphie wondered just where Garden was at that moment.

“Quisty!” Selphie said, a genuine smile on her face.

“Hello, Selphie,” Quistis said with a little chuckle. “Enjoying your morning? It’s been awhile.”

Selphie just lifted the coffee cup, both in answer and in greeting. “About seven months.” She took a long swig. It burned the back of her throat a little.

“How’s everything going?” And as if she expected Selphie to answer with someone unwanted, she held up a hand and added, “I’m getting all your reports still.” _But that’s not what I meant,_ she seemed to be saying.

“The space program’s gotten a recent boost in funding this last month, so I’ll probably be focusing most of my attention there,” Selphie said. “Ser Laguna has let me be on the space program’s head’s advisory team. I’m the youngest one on there, but I think they find me a little intimidating. I have way too many ideas. I’m still drafting all my proposals and it’s been four months. But I’ll have more free time now that this graffiti case is finally dealt with.”

Quistis gave a gentle smile. “That sounds fantastic. And I know how inspired your ideas can be. They’re bound to seriously consider a number of them.”

Selphie’s cheeks grew warm, and she hid her face behind her coffee mug. “Thanks,” she said.

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” Quistis said, her tone changing, and that pit, the one that had lived with Selphie since the war, stirred.

“Of course. What is it? Not a new assignment, I hope? There’s plenty of young SeeDs who’d be perfect for anything anyone’s got for Garden,” Selphie said. Not that either of them were very old, but Garden was definitely about giving the new, fresh SeeDs the most exciting or interesting assignments. For herself, being assigned to work for the Timber Owls way back when was definitely a . . . quirky idea. But that was back in Cid’s days. Quistis was far more selective and apt in who she assigned to what mission. It was her personal mission to get to know each and every student as well as she could, and so far, she’d been quite successful. The students were happy, she was happy, Garden was happy.

So was Selphie, right then. It was good to know Quistis was doing so well. 

“Not exactly,” Quistis said, and her tone shifted again. In turn, the pit in Selphie’s stomach growled in uncertainty.

Selphie put her legs on the ground and her coffee on the table. “Oh?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that you . . .” Quistis stopped, perhaps displeased with the direction she’d been headed. So she switched gears. “For some time, perhaps too long a time without mentioning anything, I’ve noticed that you’ve been overworking yourself. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed, it seems. Last night I got a call from President Laguna.”

The words were coming. Selphie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s worried about you.”

Selphie’s shoulders sagged for a moment, but then she perked up. “There’s no need to be. You know me: I love working, keeping busy. There’s so much to do all the time. And especially fighting in the war, seeing and doing all the things we did, it inspired me. So really, Quistis, when I’m tired or whatever, you’ll know. It’s pretty obvious when I’m bummed.”

Quistis’ face scrunched up a little in concern. “There’s a difference between being bummed and how you’re feeling now.”

“And how am I feeling now?” Selphie snapped, and instantly wished she could take it back.

But Quistis’ concern only grew. In a gentle voice, she said, “Selphie, as Garden’s headmaster, and most importantly, as your friend, I’m requesting you take a sabbatical. At least through the rest of the summer. And then I’ll make a final decision whether you need more time or if you’re ready to go back to work.”

“I’m really okay, Quistis,” Selphie said quietly.

“I know I haven’t spent time with you since you’ve been away, so maybe I can’t really know, but you’ve spent years beside President Laguna, and especially Nida. If both of them have concerns, then I have to trust how I feel as well,” Quistis said.

_Nida?_

Selphie shook her head and then leaned forward on the table. “All right, Quistis, maybe you’re right. I can take a few months off, maybe go see Matron’s orphanage. It’s all pretty and renovated, right? And teeming with little monsters just like we used to be!”

“The orphanage?” Quistis sounded skeptical, but then she shrugged. “That will probably be a good change for you. I’ve already informed the President, and all the arrangements have been made. Officially, your sabbatical started at midnight today. I’ll expect you to be in Centra by the end of the week.”

“I’ll be there even sooner than that!” Selphie promised.

Quistis smiled again. “You’ve never been one to dawdle. Thank you, Selphie.”

_Why are you thanking me?_

“I miss having you around. We all do. Especially Rinoa,” Quistis said.

A stab of pain cut through her heart. She missed the others too, more than anything. But her love for them was the whole reason she’d been away. They’d gotten so much done, were living their dreams. Like Rinoa, she’d started up an animal sanctuary in Balamb, working closely with Ma Dincht. She even sent pictures of all the new animals that came in, and the ones who got adopted away. Selphie loved those pictures. She was so happy Rinoa was doing something she loved, and Balamb was the perfect town for her.

“I miss you guys, too,” Selphie said. She leaned forward even more and kissed the screen. “That’s from me to everyone else. Make sure you give it to everyone. Even Squall.”

Quistis cringed a little but chuckled nonetheless. “I’ll be sure to do that. I hope your time at the orphanage is fruitful.”

“I’m sure it will be. See you,” Selphie said, waving.

Quistis waved back, and then the communication ended.

Selphie looked down at the reports in front of her, chewing on her lip. The sabbatical had almost thrown her for a loop, but she was glad the orphanage had popped into mind. Quistis was expecting Selphie to relax, but there was so much work to do there as well. With a whole plethora of children, there would be little rest to find, and Selphie was sure spending so much time with them would work just as well as working herself to death in Esthar. 

And as awkward as her relationship with Matron was, it would probably be good for them to spend some time together. Selphie didn’t see the enemy in Matron anymore, of course, but sometimes when went to sleep, she was haunted by her face when Ultimecia had possessed her. It hurt more when the person hurting you was someone you loved.

Maybe it’d be therapeutic. Matron was far more mature than Selphie, and had probably handled the effects of the war better than Selphie. Spending time with her, maybe sharing their experiences, would help both of them work through it.

But it had been ten years. Maybe Selphie would never work through it. They always said time healed all wounds, but Selphie had already given it a decade of her life, and still she seemed to be in almost the exact same place as before. It was impossible to move forward when her feet were stuck in cement, and there were no GFs on her side to break her from it. 

So maybe Matron was the key. Or maybe it was someone or something else she hadn’t crossed paths with yet. It sure wasn’t Nida, that much she knew.

_Is he coming along with me on my sabbatical too?_

“As your escort, Headmistress Quistis said,” Nida said when she met him in Laguna’s office.

The President had summoned them to discuss their departure and when they might be returning. Selphie said definitely the end of the summer, and Nida said it might be a little longer. Either way, Laguna seemed pleased that Selphie was going.

“What?” Selphie complained. “Did I stop being a SeeD when I wasn’t looking?”

“I almost wish I was going with you,” Laguna said. “I’ve never been down there before, but I sure would love to see the place Squall grew up in.”

Selphie giggled. “It’d be even better if you brought Squall along with you.”

Laguna gave an unusually loud laugh at that, and then she noticed his leg twitching a little, but she made no comment on it.

“I’ve organized transportation for the two of you, ready to leave whenever you desire. Shouldn’t take more than a day to get you there. Development of our shuttles has been on the rise this past year. Making better engines every day,” Laguna said.

“Not quite every day,” Kiros said.

“Well, that’s not important,” Laguna said, waving his hand in the air. “I would like it if you gave me at least a day’s warning so I can make arrangements for your farewell.”

“A day? What are you planning on?” Selphie asked in awe.

“Just a little thing is all,” Laguna said, then winked.

Kiros rolled his eyes.

Selphie smiled. “Thank you, Ser Laguna. I’m looking forward to it! I’ll probably be leaving tomorrow, then. So you can start your arrangements now.”

Laguna’s expression grew somewhat serious, but still full of adoration. “I’m sad to see you go, though.”

With a blink, Selphie gave a nervous laugh and said, “Well, I’ll be back in a few months. Don’t worry!”

He just smiled.

_Does he know something I don’t?_

Kiros leaned closer to Laguna. “Sir, you have an appointment with the health director in ten minutes.”

“Right, right. Well, duty calls. I’ll see you at the shuttle, Selphie. It’s been an absolute pleasure working with you.” He reached out a hand, but Selphie bypassed it and instead gave him a hug, standing on her tiptoes.

Laguna gave a little noise of shock, but then he put his arms around her and squeezed her back.

When she pulled away, Selphie saluted and then left. She walked briskly through the corridors until she burst through a heavy set of doors out onto one of the presidential palace’s massive balconies. With her hands behind her back, she hopped over to the railing and then leaned her elbows on it. The wind blew through her hair, and with a smile, she closed her eyes and focused on its coolness as it gently caressed her skin.

If she could, she would stay as long as possible before leaving, but that would make leaving all the more difficult. She loved Esthar, probably more than anywhere else in the world, even Trabia. There was something about it that called to her, whether it was their focus on the future and the ever-advancing study of every area of the sciences. There was hardly anything they _weren’t_ researching. The place was a beacon of progress and culture and civilization, always moving, always shining. The place was quintessentially _her_.

Her eyes opened, sharp, and she gazed over the city. She knew every road, back road or main, and every building. Others needed a map, but Selphie had the whole place down in her head. She knew this place intimately, and loved every bit of it. Sometimes she thought it was a weakness, how strongly she loved something, someone, but right now she didn’t. When she cared for something like she cared for Esthar, when she cared for someone like she cared for the rest of the orphanage gang and Rinoa, love couldn’t possibly be anything but a strength.

Selphie jumped once in the air, her arms in the air. “Right!” she declared to nothing in particular. “The orphanage is just a new challenge. I haven’t spent that much time around kids who weren’t students at a Garden. You got this, Selphie!”

 

_The next day, the farewell_

  


No one woke her up or directed her anywhere in particular the next morning. It seemed a regular day, like the past hundreds she’d had in Esthar. She ate breakfast, read some more reports--the final ones for awhile--sent a letter to the officer who’d be in charge in Selphie’s absence, did a thorough workout, and then rewarded herself after all of this with a relaxing swim in the palace’s pool.

Only as she was drying her hair and thinking about packing all of her stuff up--she had relatively little--did someone sent her a buzz with a time and location of the shuttle. It was at the airstation, the platform used only for President Laguna, and just hearing that sent Selphie’s heart beating wildly. The shuttle would depart at exactly 16:00, but they wanted Selphie to be there fifteen minutes early.

Selphie packed all her belongings in under an hour and sat on her bed, chewing on her lip, wondering what she was going to do for the next three hours. She pinged the kitchen to order some lunch, rather not in the mood to go out just yet, and was greeted by an unfamiliar voice:

“Good afternoon, Selphie. Would you like to order something for lunch?”

“You’re not the usual lunch attendant,” Selphie said. “Today your first day?”

There was a pause, and then, “Er, no, it’s Nida. I was just here to get some lunch myself, and I noticed that the call was coming from you, so I offered to take it for them.”

“Oh,” Selphie said. “You sound completely different than you usually do.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. “Anyway, that’s not important! You’re probably starving. What are you in the mood for? I ordered the lunch special; it looks incredible today.”

“I’ll just get two hot dogs,” Selphie said. They weren’t as good as Balamb Garden’s, but then again, nowhere matched the hot dogs there. They were like eating something handcrafted by a deity. And those lunch ladies at Balamb Garden definitely could qualify as deities.

“I’ll bring it up for you in no time at all,” Nida offered cheerily.

No time at all was exactly five minutes. Selphie ate her hot dogs cross-legged on her bed, smearing mustard and ketchup all over her face: her favorite way to eat hot dogs. Afterwards, she took a picture of it to send to Rinoa, Zell, and Irvine, and then wiped her face clean. After all, she couldn’t have an official send off with a ketchup beard, could she?

She left early, dragging her luggage with her, so she had time to stop at one of the few shops in Esthar City not manned solely by a computer. It was a flower shop, the only one in the entire city, owned by a lady from Winhill, and who knew Laguna very well. She was ancient, it seemed, but still lively and full of passion when it came to flowers. 

“How nice to see you, Selphie, dear,” she said cheerfully. Then she eyed Selphie’s luggage. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Just for a few months,” Selphie said. “But I promise I’ll be back.”

The elderly lady laughed. “Always doing something, aren’t you? Well, here’s a gift for the road, on the house.” She pulled a long-stemmed yellow daisy from a bouquet and handed it to Selphie. “And maybe if you get the chance, you can stop by Winhill. My old shop and garden is still there. Kept up by a wonderful young man I met some years ago. If you see him, tell him I said hello!”

Selphie took the flower and gave it a little sniff. She looked at the old lady from over the flower and smiled. “If I stop by there, I’ll make sure to do that.”

 

“I can always count on you,” the old lady chuckled. “And you, young man! Would you like one, too? I never did catch your name.”

Suddenly Nida appeared--or, apparently he’d been there the whole time--and he smiled. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m allergic to so many flowers, so I generally just avoid them altogether.”

“Oh, gee, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” the old lady shook her head.

Selphie wrapped the long stem around one of the handles of her luggage until it stayed in place on its own. “When I come back,” she said, “first place I’ll stop is your shop. I’ll try to bring a souvenir if I can.”

The old lady blushed and began organizing some flowers. “Oh, no, dear, you needn’t bother. Don’t need to waste any time on little, old me.”

Selphie leaned down and kissed the flower lady on the head. “It’s not wasted time.”

The old lady shook her head, muttering to herself. Selphie couldn’t quite make out all of it, but it sounded something like, “Young people these days.”

They spent some more time wandering through the streets, until Nida mentioned it was time they start heading towards the air station. Selphie pretended to ignore him, even though she changed direction towards the air station. Her steps were slower than her usual bouncing, quick pace. The air station was the last place she’d be before leaving Esthar completely behind. And though she intended still on fulfilling her promise and returning in a few months, a Selphie no one had to worry about, something inside her felt maybe that the steps she was taking now were final. It wasn’t as if she would never come back at all, but that when she did, it would be awhile from now, in a whole different context.

_What context, though?_ The uncertainty of it drove her a little crazy.

Luckily, when the air station came into view, all those thoughts fell away. Even just at the entrance stairs, there were Esthar soldiers lining the sides. She stopped a moment to collect herself as her eyes traveled along their line. It probably went all the way to the shuttle. With a swallow, she let go of her luggage, rubbed the soreness from her hands, then grabbed hold of them again and started forward.

The soldiers saluted as she walked by, and the ones she recognized, the ones directly under her command, she waved to them. Most of them saluted, but a few waved as well, and she winked at them. At the very end of the line waited the shuttle, along with Laguna, Kiros, and Ward. Selphie stopped in front of them and set her luggage down.

“I hope to see you again SeeD Tilmitt,” Kiros said first, with a bow. “I found your company quite delightful.”

Selphie put her hands behind her back. “Thank you.”

Ward waved a hand in the air and smiled, and Selphie said, “Same to you, Ward.”

Then she turned her focus to Laguna and she stood straight at attention. She gave the SeeD salute. “Thank you for letting Esthar City serve as my home the past few years. I really appreciate it.”

“And we all appreciate the work you’ve done for us here,” Laguna said. “I know the head of the space program is eager for your proposals in the future. From what he’s told me, your first pitches were very intriguing!”

Selphie brought her shoulders together in embarrassment. “I may have gotten ahead of myself on a few of them, but I am working on making my official proposals more in depth. I’ll be happy to share them when I return in a few months.”

Laguna folded his arms. “Of course. I don’t doubt it.”

“Your shuttle will be departing in a few minutes,” Kiros said. “You should probably board so you have time time to properly settle in.”

“Do you think they’d let me fly?” Selphie asked as her eyes flicked to the shuttle. It was half the size of _Ragnarok_ , and probably far easier to control. Besides, if she could figure out how to fly _Ragnarok_ on her own in less than a day, than the shuttle probably would be a cinch. It would definitely make the trip more exciting and mind-consuming.

Laguna laughed. “I thought you might suggest that. You can sit in the other pilot’s seat and watch how the pilot works everything. It’ll probably be quite educational.”

Selphie picked her luggage back up. “I’m sure I’ll get it in no time. Until next time, Ser Laguna.”

“Selphie,” he said with a nod and a smile.

With a deep breath, Selphie turned to the shuttle. “Here goes nothing.”

 

_The next day_

  


The pilot dropped them off at the beach, and then, with the briefest of goodbyes, was gone. Selphie wandered a few feet from her luggage, feet digging into the soft sand, and gazed up towards the orphanage. The last time she’d seen it, it had been crumbling, only half-alive, and very quiet. Even from here she could hear the laughter of playing children, and the walls looked so strong and bright. It was strange to be back after so much time, with only the memories of the orphanage during the war, and the even more distant memories of her actual time as a child there.

Actually being there, it felt so right. The decision had been spur of the moment in her conversation with Quistis, but maybe it had been made from some unconscious desire. After all, she’d been far too busy to really think about anything outside Esthar and her work there. But this was definitely where she needed to be, so a part of her thanked Quistis for suggesting the sabbatical. The rest of her was scared what the future would hold, then. Until she set foot on the beach, it had been to definitely go back to Esthar City and pick up right where she left off.

This place wouldn’t let her do that, though, would it?

“Shall we?” Nida asked behind her.

She jumped a little and then spun around. “Right! Yes.” She grabbed her things and lugged it up the cliff trail until she was standing outside the back door of the orphanage. Matron was expecting her today, so just walking in would be no real surprise, but still, Selphie knocked and waited.

It was Cid who opened the door. When she saw her, he pushed up his glasses and grinned. “Selphie! How good to see you. Come in, come in. You too, Nida. I can get your luggage.” He ushered them both in with an arm and then tended to their luggage.

A couple of kids ran out of one room, circled around Selphie, and then disappeared into another one.

Images flared up in her mind, but not the usual ones. These were happy, old. Irvine used to chase her around these halls. And Seifer would chase Zell. Quistis played peacekeeper. Squall was always on his own, usually outside, always waiting for Sis . . .

Selphie shivered and rubbed her arms, though it was far from cold here. 

A moment later, Matron appeared from the room the kids came from. She stopped abruptly when she saw Selphie, surprise on her face, and then her eyes sparkled. “Selphie. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, moving, moving, moving,” Selphie said. “Esthar City sure keeps you busy. But I love it.”

Matron gave a tiny smile. “I’m glad. You’re the only one who hasn’t visited since the war . . . Things are quite different than they used to be, even when you were here.”

“Looks like it! This place looks amazing,” Selphie said, glancing around again to take in all the details. All the stone was smooth and uncracked, and beautiful, fresh oil paintings hung all along the walls. The floor was new stone, as well, but covered in elaborately decorated, warm-hued rugs. On the side tables rested some horrible, mangled, but amazing, sculptures, no doubt made by the children. Their creations must have been everywhere around the house, and Selphie wanted to see all of them.

Cid moved to Matron’s side, now finished moving the luggage in. He put his arm around her waist and smiled proudly. “We’ve both worked tirelessly at it. I think I can safely say we’re living our dream.”

Selphie’s lips pursed. Hadn’t Garden been their dream? Or that one seen accomplished, was this the other one?

Either way, it was good. Selphie was happy for them, even if she didn’t quite know what to say to them. Taking more after Quistis, she clasped her hands in front of her, gave a tiny bow, and said, “Thank you for having me. I’ll try not to be too much trouble.”

“Like you used to be, eh?” Cid said with a booming laugh.

Matron smiled too, but said gently, “You won’t be any trouble at all, Selphie.”

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like to help out around here in any way I can,” Selphie said.

Immediately, Matron said, “Of course.”

“Why, yes!” Cid said. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Here, I’ll show you to your rooms, and then perhaps we can talk some more about it over some tea or coffee.” He laughed again, mostly to himself. “Or maybe some brandy. We’ve got some good brandy, fresh from the finest distilleries in Timber.”

“Cid . . .” Matron said in a chastising tone, most likely not meant to be heard by others, but Selphie caught it and she smiled a little.

Her room was on the new second floor, and had the best view of the ocean in the house, right above her bed. She knelt on her bed for a few minutes just staring out over the noon sunlight on the water. In Esthar, it was difficult to see the sunrise and sunset, even from the presidential palace, but here, she would be able to see both unhindered by anything at all.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Selphie, Nida, Matron, and Cid all sat at the table with cups of tea before them. Brandy sounded most appealing, but thinking back on her conversation with Nida not long ago, she decided to keep quiet about it until it later and only Cid was around.

The others all seemed comfortable, but Selphie couldn’t keep her gaze off Matron. The ex-sorceress pretended not to notice, but Selphie saw through it. Yet, she didn’t stop. Her body wouldn’t let her, or at least, her mind wouldn’t. The woman was no longer her enemy, and her powers had long since transferred to Rinoa, and yet, being so close after so long flared up so many memories, and not good ones. Her mind was telling her one thing, while her heart was telling her another.

Her thoughts cut off when Cid directly spoke to her, having moved on from his conversation with Nida and Matron. “So, what were you hoping to help out with? Honestly, mostly it’d just be spending time with the kids. It can get pretty tiring for Edea and me. Having some young blood around sounds like a great idea.”

“I’ve always loved kids,” Nida added.

Selphie nodded. “I’d have a lot of stories to tell them, and I’ve learned so much, I’m sure there’s plenty I could teach them. Back in Esthar City on weekends, I sometimes taught a self defense class. There’s a lot of other things I could teach them here, though.”

Matron took a sip of her tea and set it carefully back in the saucer. “Yes, I don’t think self defense classes are right for the kids right now. If anyone of them decide to go to Garden, then perhaps . . .”

Selphie bit her lip and glanced into her amber tea. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Don’t worry about that, though. I’m just saying, I’m a real good teacher.”

“She is. I’ve sat in on loads of her classes,” Nida said.

“You have?”

“That’s great, then!” Cid said. “You can start as soon as you’re ready to. I’m sure the kids would love it. And I’m sure they’ll be happy to see some new faces besides my wrinkly one, ha ha!”

Matron reached over and put her hand on his. “Your face is lovely, dear.”

Cid took her hand, lifted it, and kissed it. “Not as lovely as yours.”

_It was never like that with Irvine and me. That was always off. It’s nice to see people find others they click with. Matron and Cid . . . Rinoa and Squall . . ._ Selphie smiled.

“There’s also the matter of our hired help,” Matron said. “He comes around every so often, fixes things, makes sure the gardens are in order, things like that. So don’t be surprised when you see him. He usually keeps to himself, though.”

“All right. I’ll try not to jump him,” Selphie said with a laugh.

Cid slapped his hands on the table. “Well, do you want to meet the kids? All twenty-two of them?”

“Twenty-two!” Nida exclaimed.

They had greatly expanded one of the rooms, and the twenty-two kids and their caretakers fit easily. The wall was simply covered in original artworks by the kids, all of them signed in the corner. That’s how Selphie met each kid. She walked around to each painting, and whomever’s it was, they would jump up, shout their name, and then give a little history on the particular piece they had displayed on the wall. At the end, Selphie maybe remembered four of them, but in time, she’d get them. She was good with names and faces.

After dinner, they all sat in the great room together, Selphie on a chair at one end with a little girl in her lap, the youngest there, and the rest cross-legged on the floor. 

“Are you going to tell us a story, Sephy?” one of them called out.

“Tell us a story!” another demanded.

“How bout a story for a story?” Selphie asked. “Is that a fair trade, do you think?”

In the back of the room, Matron and Cid smiled, then arm in arm, left the room, leaving the rest of the evening in Selphie and Nida’s hands.

The kids all agreed that was fair.

“All right,” Selphie said, humming as she wondered which story to tell. There were so many to tell, especially from the war. But she’d save those for later, when she was ready to tell them. Instead she decided on her years at Trabia after the war, specifically that time she had to call out Ifrit to protect she and her friend from the unexpected horde of monsters.

The kids leaned in, listening with all the focus their little bodies could muster, eyes the size of walnuts. They gasped in all the right places, and at the end, when Selphie was standing on top of chair, reenacting exactly all the moves she’d made, they stood up too, waving their arms in the air, rooting for her to defeat the monsters. And when she finally did, they all jumped up and down, hugged each other, cheering in victory.

The little girl who’d been in Selphie’s lap before the climax asked about Ifrit, if she could see him.

Selphie sat back down. “He’s not junctioned to me anymore,” she said, “but I still keep him around, just in case some more monsters decide to gobble me up!” She tickled the little girl’s sides until the girl was crying from laughter, and then picked the girl up and set her back on her knee. She turned back to the kids. “I can show you all his stone tomorrow if you promise to be careful with him.”

“We promise!” they all said in unison.

“Now it’s time for a story from you, then,” Selphie reminded.

A kid in the front volunteered. “There’s a guy that comes around here all the time,” he started.

“The handyman, right?” Selphie wanted to confirm.

“Yeah!” the kid said, his eyes bulging again. “No one’s _ever_ talked to him, not even seen his _face_. Matron and Mr. Cid said he’s a real nice fellow who fixes stuff around here, but I think he’s secretly a convict! And no one will hire him except Matron and Mr. Cid because they’re real nice people.”

Selphie grinned. “Oh no! A convict? What did he do?”

The kid grabbed his shirt collar like a distinguished gentleman. Proudly, he said, “Well, _I_ think he’s a murderer from the Galbadian Army. From back in the war days, you know. He tried to take down President Deling single-handedly, and he almost won before the sorceress came! But the army was so scared of him, because he was so powerful, that they kicked him out, so he comes here.”

“That’d be quite the man!” Selphie said.

Another kid jumped to her feet. “No, no, he’s a famous monster hunter from around Dollet! He spent one whole month alone on the Island of Hell and _survived_. But he got so tired from all that monster hunting that he came down here.”

“ _Puh-lease_!” the oldest kid there, at twelve, said. He stood up in the back and then rounded to the front. “Let me tell you the _real_ story that Matron and Mr. Cid told me.”

“They did not!” the second girl said, sticking her tongue out.

“Sure they did. I’m the oldest. When you turn twelve, you get to know things,” the kid said.

“And what did they tell you?” Selphie asked. She doubted a scrap of their stories were true, even this one that was supposedly told to him by Matron and Cid. But she wanted to hear all of them. The kids were so into it, and not knowing who the man actually was herself, it was fun to see what the kids thought of him before she perhaps met the man herself.

The twelve-year-old cleared his throat. “The man was born to be an experiment! A human-monster hybrid. In the moonlight, he’s forced to revert to his monster shape. A bloodthirsty creature with six-inch long claws, and even longer fangs!” He curled his hands like claws and bared his teeth. “That’s why you see him go out into the meadow at night. If he’s here at the orphanage, then he’ll try to eat us!”

Definitely not true. But Selphie loved every word of it.

“And then, when the sun comes out, he goes back to being human. But he’s torn, you see. He hates himself, he hates that he’s half a monster. It eats at him all day and all night. He doesn’t think he can be a real guy, because he’s afraid to hurt people, or for people to hate him,” the kid went on. “But Matron and Mr. Cid let him work here, and they say one day he’ll be brave enough to come say hello to us. But until then--” 

He jumped at the kids with his claws and growled at them. They collectively gasped and leaned away. The kid laughed and sat back down in the back.

“Well, those are are certainly cuh-razy stories, aren’t they?” Selphie asked. “Who wants to be brave and go meet him next time he comes?”

All the kids sit up straight in fear, some shaking their heads vigorously.

“All right, then how bout me?” Selphie said, letting the little girl sit on her shoulders. Then she stood up. “I’m going to say hello to him next time he comes and see if he really turns into a monster!”

“Don’t do it, Miss Sephy, don’t do it!” one of the girl cried out.

“I don’t want you to get eaten, Sephy!” another cried.

Selphie gave a little giggle and smiled. “I won’t get eaten. I’ve got my nunchakus, and nothing can beat those!”

The fear dissipated, and suddenly all the kids wanted to see her nunchakus. Selphie had to promise them they could see it later, but that they all needed to get ready for bed because it was getting late. They all groaned, but nonetheless complied.

“I’ve got them!” Nida said.

“What? You know how to tuck kids in for the night?” Selphie asked suspiciously.

“Sure,” Nida said. He cracked his knuckles and gave her a thumb up. “Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Selphie said as he followed after the kids.

A few moments later, she was left alone in the great room, surrounded on all sides by children’s artwork and scuffed up rugs. Selphie stretched her arms above her head, popped her back, and let out a content sigh. The kids were a handful, and super loud, and she’d probably be more exhausted at the end of every day than she had at Trabia, but the kids were extra diverting, more than anything so far. This was the right choice, she was fully certain now.

Before she too went to bed, she sneaked off into the kitchen to find Cid’s brandy. She poured herself a small glass and sipped at it while she watched the sunset out the kitchen window. The problems of the world were far away from this place, but after so long, she could hardly go without a little something to keep her going.

Still, tomorrow would be the first morning where she didn’t have to worry about weird cults, and anti-Garden propaganda, and disorderly conduct in the shopping mall, or anything like that at all. She could just spend time with the kids, herself, a little with Matron, and be surrounded by the sweet symphony of the waves and seagulls. She could have a busy mind and a peaceful heart both.

_That sounds real nice._

She lifted her glass in the air. “This is for you guys, wherever all of you are right now. Maybe I’ll get to see you soon. I guess you never really do know.”

 

_Two weeks later_

  


Time moved by at a steady pace, and all the days were consistent like that. In Esthar, it had been fast, slow, all over the place. But the orphanage was solid, like it had its own time that was in line with a calm, beating heart--probably Matron’s. July had started three days ago, and the kids were spending more time down at the beach in wake of a massive heat wave.

On the fifteenth day Selphie had been there, the handyman arrived. He stayed mostly out of sight, and Selphie didn’t really know he was there until she was running back to the orphanage to grab more lemonade for the dozens of thirsty kids on the beach. She saw Matron already with the pitcher and glasses, standing just outside the back door, looking over at someone with blond hair in the garden. When Selphie came into view, the handyman saw her and vanished among the plants.

“So what was him, huh?” Selphie asked in interest as Matron came up to meet her.

“Yes. He’ll probably be here for a few days. Mostly tending the garden right now. The heat wave’s had a big impact on them,” Matron said.

The two of them stood there for a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, and then Matron offered the tray. Selphie took it carefully with a tiny thank you.

“You might find talking to him . . . well . . .” But rather than find the right word, Matron shook her head and said, “Nevermind. I don’t know nearly enough to have any say in the matter.”

Selphie frowned. “Why? Who is it?”

“An old friend, maybe,” Matron said. “I’m going to go back into the house and take a nap.”

“Oh, okay. Right. Have a nice nap. I’ll just . . .” She lifted the tray a little. “Get this lemonade to all the little monsters on the beach. Ha, Sama already tried to go find some Fastitocalons and I just barely managed to stop him before he probably disappeared forever.”

Matron covered her mouth with her hands, but she did sound a little humored. “Oh, dear. He tries it every year. We’ll have to keep an extra eye on him.”

“Sleep well,” Selphie said, and turned away before the conversation got any more awkward. Some time had passed, but even then, three weeks wasn’t enough for Selphie to know exactly what to say and exactly how to feel with Matron. But it’d come to her, she knew that. It had to.

The lemonade was gone in less than a minute, and then the kids were back in the water. Selphie sat down in the sand, a giant hat on her head to keep the sun off her skin. Her legs stretched out in front of her, eager to soak in the rays, though.

_An old friend? Well, I know a lot of people in the past who might secretly be murderers or monster-human hybrids, but none of them exactly friends. Why can’t she just tell me who it is?_ She glanced back at the clifftop. No one was there, but with the kids here, and Matron sleeping, it was the perfect time to find this handyman and finally know what face belonged to the stories the kids told about him. She’d heard many more since the first day.

“I can watch the kids if you need to get some rest,” Nida said, walking up.

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m not tired,” she said and laughed. “Me, sleep at this time of day? No way. Not even when I’m eighty years old.” She hopped to her feet. “You stay here and watch the kids, though, I need to just check on something.”

Nida blinked. “That’s literally what I just . . . Ah, forget it. I’ll be here.”

Selphie jumped back to her feet and traipsed up the cliffside path until she reached the orphanage again. She checked every room for the handyman, only finding Matron and Cid both asleep on one of the couches, Cid being the little spoon. Selphie smiled and looked at them for a few seconds before continuing her search. 

Eventually, she went outside closer to the meadow. They’d planted the garden between the orphanage and the great expanse, the outer half being home to flowers, and the inner half to vegetables and fruits. She hid behind a pillar when she saw the handyman in a white tanktop kneeling down beside what looked like a tomato plant.

Stomach suddenly knotted in fear, she peeked around the side of the pillar, waiting for the stranger to turn enough to see his face. His hair was blonde, a little shaggy, but clean. She also noted he had very nice arms, but that was of no consequence. Clearing her mind, she focused all her thoughts into scouring the details of his head, as if that would reveal his identity.

When he moved, she squeaked and hid behind the pillar again, feeling like a teenager again. She let her beating heart calm back down before she finally peeked around one more time.

All it took was one second, him staring at her, expecting her, and she recognized him. Hoping to not give him the same chance, she quickly hid behind the pillar again, and made sure to keep her back to him as she made her escape.

Luckily, no one followed her back into the apartment. _Well, maybe he didn’t recognize me, so he didn’t care._

“Ha, monster-animal hybrid, Galbadian murderer . . .” she said to herself, sounding half-mad. “Though, monster hunter . . . that one’s kind of true.” She let out a laugh, rubbing her cheeks with her knuckles, as if that would somehow erase the fact that, yes, Seifer Almasy, _Seifer Almasy_ was outside this very moment, _doing gardeny shit with a tomato plant_.

Selphie went to the kitchen. All the ingredients for lemonade were still out, so she made herself a single serving, and then making sure no one was looking, snagged the brandy and poured a little into her lemonade. She stirred the whole thing together until it was this ugly brown-ish color. In two seconds, the whole things was down her throat, and she was slapping the glass down on the table, wincing at the disgusting concoction she had just made.

She made herself another one.

That one didn’t disappear as fast as the other one. Instead, she paced back and forth in the kitchen, holding it in a hand. “Seifer Almasy is in the garden. Seifer Almasy is just outside. Seifer Almasy is less than a hundred yards from me. Seifer Almasy is alive and seemingly okay and unharmed. Seifer Almasy, the guy who once tried to kill me and my friends, who helped blow up Trabia, he’s . . .” She stopped.

Her hand gripped the glass tighter. “He’s just outside . . . I’d always just thought he was dead . . .”

Someone knocked on the door frame, and there was Cid, glasses askew, hair a little messed up, but a gentle expression on his face. “You should have invited me for some of that.”

Selphie glanced at him, then her drink, then looked back at him. “Sorry. I didn’t ask.”

“No problem at all,” Cid said. “I’d never drink it all by myself.” He yawned and sat down at the table. “Everything going well with you?”

“Well?” Selphie thought about that a moment. She took a step towards the table, set her glass down carefully, then leaned toward Cid. “Did you know that Seifer Almasy is your handyman?”

Cid adjusted his glasses and then gave her slightly squinty-eyed look. “Well, yes, I did know when I hired him.” He chuckled a little. “Would have to be blind to miss that.”

Selphie straightened up. “But Seifer . . . Seifer, he--”

Cid held up his hands. “Yes, yes. I am well aware.”

“But--”

“But people change. He’s had a lot of time to think back on that war, same as you have, Selphie,” Cid said. He gave her and even look. “If someone tries to live a good life, to make up for his past mistakes, then he should be given a chance to live in peace, shouldn’t he? Even be forgiven. Now Matron and I have forgiven him.”

Selphie backed away and rested against the counter. “Why didn’t you just tell me right away?”

“Would it have changed anything?” Cid asked, shrugging.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Selphie said quietly.

There was a momentary silence, and then Selphie asked, “Does anyone else know? I mean, I feel like they would have told me if they knew.”

Cid shook his head. “No. Any time someone’s visited, Seifer’s been away. He’s not here incredibly often. But since you’re staying here for a prolonged amount of time, of course you’d eventually see him.”

Selphie clenched her jaw and stared at the floor. “You want me to forgive him?”

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Cid said. “I don’t have any agendas here. Me and Edea are just living out our lives here and taking care of the kids here in this orphanage. Then you’re here, and then Seifer’s here.” He picked up the lemonade and gave it a sniff before taking a sip. “As a SeeD, you come across all kinds of people, no one ever the same as anyone else. Now, Seifer’s rather special in that SeeD career of yours, I understand that, but . . .” 

He downed the lemonade and then got to his feet. “He had many qualities to make a damn fine SeeD. One of the best, perhaps. He still does, really. And maybe all the things that disqualified him are gone now. A lot of time has passed since the war, since he was a teenager like the rest of you. I’m not saying that excuses his actions, but you have to look at the bigger picture. That’s all I’ll say on the matter. What’s between you and him is between you and him. But you know . . . You don’t have to talk to him.”

Selphie finally looked up at him. She glanced at the empty glass and was slightly relieved he had deprived her of it. One glass was already too much. “No, you’re right. I have to be level-headed about this, don’t I? Because I’m not a teenager anymore either. Things have . . . changed.”

Cid smiled.

She pushed off the counter. “I’d honestly completely forgotten about him. But now that I saw him again, so many things are coming back again . . .” _I thought I’d gotten rid of them. Why can’t I just get rid of them? Has everyone moved on but me?_

She’d had the nightmares here, but far fewer than she usually did. That was a good sign. When she went to bed tonight, would they return full force like they had been after time compression?

“I’m going to go back to the kids,” Selphie said. “They’re what matter right now. Thanks for the lemonade.” She slipped out past him without another word and rejoined the kids back on the beach. She sat down in the very same place as before, and this time, she didn’t get up until hours later when the sun was going down and it was time for the kids’ bedtime.

When they were all safely tucked away in bed, and the house was quiet except for the crickets and the ocean, Selphie lay down in bed, atop her covers. It took less than thirty minutes for the nightmares to hit, the sound of the alarms at the missile base, the feel of Zell and Irvine’s hands holding hers, all of them so sure they were going to die . . . 

The kitchen held the only solace. She grabbed the bottle of brandy, not bothering with a glass tonight, and made her way outside in the cool, night air. As she walked, she took the occasional sip of brandy, letting the warmth flow into her belly, specifically targeting that grey lump she hated with all her being. The meadow was used to her walking through it after the sun went down. She didn’t always have a bottle of brandy with her, but some nights, like tonight, it was necessary.

She wandered through the expanse, no particular destination in mind, especially the more the alcohol affected her. Some nights she could control herself, stop at the perfect point and then ride it out, but other nights she just kept going, the idea of stopping laughable. Tonight was the latter, and it made her sad to think so, because tonight was one of the loveliest nights she’d spent in the meadow. Even though she knew she was alive and healthy, and that she would be that way for quite awhile, the feeling from the dream remained. Once the timer got to zero, she and her friends were gone.

The world would have thought nothing of it.

Selphie stopped and stared back at the orphanage in the distance. It looked so tiny and unassuming from here, not like the warm, cozy, and loving place it was. You couldn’t know it was a haven for anyone at all. She should have gone here directly after the war, even if it was still broken. She could have helped Matron and Cid rebuild it. And maybe then things wouldn’t be so bad with her.

_Have I made any progress at all? Maybe my plan just made things worse._

She started walking again, this time backwards, and it made her giggle. That was the alcohol.

She kept walking, walking, until suddenly she smacked into something. The bottle fell from her unexpected hands, spilling over her shoes. Cursing, she turned, expecting a lonesome tree, and instead found herself looking up into the round, cerulean eyes of Seifer Almasy.


	4. Chapter 4

Hyperion sliced through the Grendel’s tough hide with ease, as if the scaly, hardened skin were as thin and flimsy as a sheet of paper. It wailed its own elegy as it fell to the ground, keening and mournful. Within seconds, the light faded from its yellowed eyes and its arms fell limp, ceasing in their desperate attempt to contain the monster’s lifeforce.

When the creature’s body remained still for longer than thirty seconds, Seifer rose to his feet and wiped the stained edge of Hyperion’s blade on the rough fabric of his pants. One down, an endless stream to go. How that bumbling idiot had managed to keep all of the town’s inhabitants alive, he still didn’t understand. 

He ambled over to the carcass and methodically skinned the beast; blood coated his gloves, making his fingers uncomfortably slick. Once he was done picking the carcass apart, he packed up his bounty and slung his bag over his shoulder before heading back for town. The Grendel marked the last kill and the end of his morning patrol, and he was looking forward to washing the sweat and grime from his body. As he made his way along the path, he winced at the pull of his muscles; physical activity hadn’t hurt this much just a few years ago. 

Down the hill, terracotta roofs and whitewashed stucco walls awaited him. He never thought he’d say it, but over the past ten years, the place had somehow managed to feel like home in a way that Garden never had. It had wormed its way into his subconscious, into his very being, and every time he left, he found himself counting the days until he could return. It was familiar now, and yet, still unknown, and no one here cared a whit about his past transgressions. Most people didn’t even know who he was, beyond his name. They also didn’t care about what _came_ with his name—the history, the potential danger. That form of absolution was a luxury he couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Even though it had been ten years since the end of the war, he was _still_ recognized in larger cities—places where he would’ve thought that people would be so engrossed in their own lives, they couldn’t be bothered to meddle in his. 

How wrong he’d been. 

Still musing about the past and how he’d ended up _here_ , of all places, Seifer walked up to his front door and pulled the keys out of his right front pocket. Quickly, he let himself in and kicked the door shut behind him, causing the pots and pans hanging on the wall to rattle. The house he lived in was small—extremely small. Even after adding the upstairs to the main floor, it was no larger than 750 square feet. It was only him, though, so it didn’t bother him in the slightest. There was no room for “entertaining”, no reason he had to pretend to be willing to have guests over for extended periods of time. No, the space allowed him to keep to himself, and that was something that he and the residents of Winhill agreed on: that Seifer Almasy—anyone really—was best left on their own.

After tossing his dingy bag at the base of the staircase and propping Hyperion against the wall, he took the steps two at a time to the bathroom. As he made his way there, he stripped off a piece of clothing with every step—his heavy leather coat tossed here, his combat boots kicked off there. With each piece of clothing he shedded, he felt more and more free. The second he was standing directly under the not-so-steady stream of lukewarm water, he felt the prior tension that had been settled between his hunched shoulders leak out of him. It then trickled down the drain with the now-murky water. 

It was moments like these, moments where he wasn’t constantly in motion, propelled by some invisible force from within, when his mind ran amok. When he’d first arrived in Winhill, still young and naively burning with passion, it was a habit he’d hoped would pass. He didn’t have time—or the patience—to sit and wallow in his many regrets. After ten years of suffering at the whim of his own brain, he’d come to realize that it was just an aspect of his personality, who he was. As an eighteen-year-old SeeD hopeful, he’d needed to be constantly moving forward, and now, as a twenty-eight-year-old man, nothing had changed.

He massaged shampoo into the wet strands of his hair, working the suds through to the ends. As he went through the motions, random thoughts flitted through his mind: the contents—or lack thereof—of his fridge, the fact that he hadn’t done laundry in a week, and that it was about time for Hyperion’s regular maintenance. After all, his gunblade was how he kept himself fed and housed. He couldn’t let it dwindle in quality and worth like he himself had.

That last thought disappeared and he chuckled at himself, though the sound contained more self-deprecation than actual humor. _Is this seriously where my shit-show of a life has ended up? Daily monster patrol for some backwater town, and helping out random old ladies? What-fuckin’-ever._

His subsequent scoff was swallowed up by the echo of the running water bouncing off the walls of the tiny room. After rinsing off the rest of his body, he twisted the knob to shut the water off and climbed out of the tub, ducking so that he wouldn’t hit his head on the metal shower rod. It wasn’t exactly built for those fortunate enough to stand over six feet tall. Tossing the towel onto the ground, he traipsed down the hall—a total of four steps—and into his bedroom. 

Lethargically, he rifled through the few items in his armoire, avoiding his usual garb. When he reached the end of available options, his fingertips lingered on his old, tattered trenchcoat, now an off-shade of grey from all the muck that had accumulated over the past decade. For a moment, he found that he couldn’t look away, his mind flooded with memories of the war. As if breaking out of a trance, he started and reached for a shirt on the opposite end of the rack, dressing quickly in his usual outfit of choice: a pair of black canvas pants, and a short-sleeved black t-shirt. After trekking back out into the hall to find his shoes, he pulled his boots back on and thudded back downstairs.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall revealed that he had an hour before he needed to check in with the old lady, so he beelined for his fridge, feeling rather thirsty. As soon as he pulled the fridge door open, he let out an annoyed grunt; the only beverage on the shelves was beer. 

Not that there was anything wrong with beer, but it was the only thing he drank nowadays, and getting completely shit-faced before making his usual stops throughout town probably wouldn’t provide the best impression. But it wasn’t as if the people of Winhill didn’t already have him pegged. Seifer wasn’t sure which was worse: living up to their expectations, or living up to his own. 

He grunted again—though this one was more disgusted—and swiped the closest can. After he popped the top, he chugged it down before wiping his mouth and tossing it into the garbage. 

“Hyne, you’re a real first-class gentleman, aren’t you?” he muttered to himself, running his hand through his still-damp hair. 

With a weary sigh, he grabbed Hyperion and collapsed into the nearest chair. It groaned as his weight settled down on the already precarious legs. He propped his ankle on the opposite knee before resting Hyperion against his calf, and then reached over to pull the tub of gunblade oil over to him. If he’d still been living with Fujin and Raijin, Fujin would likely have ripped into him about leaving messes in his wake, and cluttering up the house. The beauty of it was that he didn’t still live with them, and Hyne-damn it, he could leave his shit wherever the hell he wanted to.

Methodically, he dipped the accompanying grungy rag into the oil and spread it over the dinged-up metal. Once the entire surface had the perfect sheen to it, he set the rag down and grabbed the thin pad of steel wool, working it across the layer of oil. An errant spot that was still darkened with the slightest bit of rust caught his eye, and he rubbed the oil into it with the pad of his thumb, his forehead creasing in concentration. After it was gone, he wiped the blade down with the opposite side of the rag and closed up the tub. 

Though the process of keeping Hyperion in top condition was time-consuming, Seifer had always found it relaxing in a sort of mind-numbing way. Instead of his thoughts running away from him, it was the exact opposite. The landscape of his mental environment was normally reminiscent of the cliffs nearby the orphanage, craggy and desolate. When he was working on Hyperion, though, it transformed into the beach beside those cliffs, even, smooth, with the waves gently brushing against the grains of sand on the shore. 

Just as efficiently as with the oil, he filed the edge of the blade, bringing the previously dulled edge back to its original sharpness. Now that he was finished with the ritual, he ran his fingers along the full length of the blade, almost reverently. With that reverence came disappointment. 

It was time to get back to things.

He rose to his feet and placed Hyperion back in its place against the wall. After stooping down to grab his bag from the floor, he slung it over his shoulder and walked out of the house. His first stop was the general store. Bemmet, the owner, was always keeping an eye out for Grendel hide because he said it was the best for reworking into decor and other things. Seifer had no idea whether that was true, but hey, the guy paid him good gil for it, so he didn’t really care why Bem wanted it.

After pocketing his haul—a whole 313 gil—he hung a left and made his way out of town. As soon as the paver stones gave way to dirt, he looked up from his boots and peered up ahead, trying to peek in through the window of the house in the distance. A slouched shadow flitted in and out of view, obscured by the flowers that rested just beyond the window frame. It was impossible to tell who the shadow belonged to, but he had an inkling he knew who it was; he’d never had fantastic vision, but it seemed like the older he got, the less he could see. 

When he reached the small house, before he headed inside, he leaned against the outer wall and stared out at the view. The shop rested close to the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean, and the sounds of the waves could be heard ever-so-slightly from where he stood. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, deciding to smoke just half of it before he headed inside. He’d never quite kicked the habit from his younger years, but he really only smoked when he was feeling stressed or exceptionally bored. There were worse addictions in life.

A few minutes later, he decided he was done and stomped the cigarette out before turning and heading into the shop. The bell above the door jingled when he entered, and the elderly woman standing in front of the counter turned towards the door. When she saw Seifer, her wrinkled face scrunched up in a fond smile.

“Seifer. I was wondering when you were going to stop by.” Her voice, though dry and quieter than usual with age, was every bit as warm and inviting as he imagined it was in her youth.

He rarely ever smiled nowadays—or at least, not a full, genuine smile—but the corner of his lips twitched upwards. “Hey, you know me, Amma. I’m never late. I get here right on time.”

Amma chuckled and gestured for him to come closer. When he stood just in front of her, she wrapped her arm around his waist in an affectionate hug—that was as high as she could reach. While hugs had always made him feel strangely uncomfortable, he’d never been able to tell the old lady that, so he reached up and patted her back like he usually did. She stepped away and bent over to grab her watering can before continuing down the line of pots, pausing to sprinkle each one. In no particular hurry, Seifer trailed after her, inspecting a couple of the flowers every so often. 

A few minutes of amiable silence passed before Amma glanced over her shoulder at Seifer. “So, how’s today been?”

He shrugged one shoulder, fingering the delicate petals of an orchid. “Fine. Same old.”

She straightened and looked back at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you really fine, or do you mean the opposite?”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, he glanced up from the flower and met her gaze. “No change is good, or so people have told me.”

She rolled her eyes and started watering again as she retorted, “Yeah, but you and I both know there’s no way you really believe that.”

Seifer chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wooden trellis. “Fair enough.” He watched her work for a minute or so as the mid-afternoon sun filtered in through the window, warming his face. “I brought you those Grendel teeth you wanted, though I still don’t know why the hell you had me pullin’ monster teeth.”

From across the shop, she called out, “I’ve told you a bunch of times, already. They make good additives for the plants once I’ve ground them up.” Then, sounding rather irritated, she added, “And come over here, you know I can’t shout.”

Again, he chuckled, before pushing off of the trellis and joining Amma on the other side of the room. The amount of sass this woman held in her aged bones reminded him of the way Matron had chastised him as a kid. Granted, their personalities weren’t alike in the slightest, but when Amma’s voice took on that maternal, commanding tone, Matron’s face always popped up in his head.

And with it came a fresh wave of guilt and regret, even ten years later.

Shortly after, Amma finished up her watering and returned to the counter. After stashing the canister out of sight, she held her hand out to Seifer. He shrugged his bag off and dug around in it for the little tin he’d placed the Grendel teeth in, and once he found it, he placed it in her outstretched palm. 

She moved towards the register, like she did every time he fulfilled a request from her, and like every other time, he held up his hand. “I’m not takin’ your money.”

An exasperated sigh left her. “Well, I gotta pay you somehow. I don’t take charity from people, even strapping young men like yourself.”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t charity,” he said in defense, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Taking things for free is charity.” She glared at him, before her eyes widened. “Oh! I’ve got just the thing! Stay here,” she instructed, before walking through the archway behind her and out of view.

She returned momentarily with her fingers curled around something, and when she opened them over the counter, a key was now lying on the tiles. Confused, Seifer’s gaze flitted from the key to Amma, and back. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that, melt it down for gil?”

“No, you idiot. It’s the key to the shop.”

“Okay,” he drawled out. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a key to your shop? Let myself in during the night hours, like some creep?”

Amma rolled her eyes. “For a former SeeD, you sure aren’t the brightest, are you?”

Seifer’s mouth dropped open. As far as he knew, Amma didn’t know anything about his past—none of the people in Winhill did. He’d never mentioned Garden, or SeeD, or his role in the war, and she’d never asked about where he’d lived before arriving in town. There hadn’t seemed to ever be a reason to share, so he’d never brought it up. He knew how that usually went.

After working his jaw a couple of times, he croaked out, “You knew?”

“I’ve known who you were the moment you walked into the shop that first day,” she admitted with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Who cares?”

Trying to recover, he sputtered, “Well, first, I never actually made SeeD, so that’s not really right, but second, why didn’t you ever say anything? How can you say people don’t care, when people _always_ fuckin’ care?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I might be your friend, but I don’t appreciate your language sometimes, Seifer. Anyway, I don’t care because that was a decade ago. I’m old, and don’t have the time or the heart to hold grudges. Also, you’re changing the subject. Are you gonna let me finish or not?”

Still taken aback, he gestured for her to continue. She pushed the key across the counter, closer to him. “Technically, this isn’t really payment. I need another favor from you. I don’t know if you pay enough attention to notice this, but at the start of every summer, I go visit my daughter in Esthar and help her out with her shop there. Hyne knows she needs it, because growing flowers in that wasteland is nigh impossible. She lost one of her biggest vendors recently, so I’m taking over for awhile and don’t know when I’ll be back.”

She paused, and Seifer took the cue to nod, so she’d know he was still listening. After mirroring the gesture, she continued. “Until I return, I’d like you to watch the shop.”

“Yeah, I’m missing how this is supposed to be payment.”

Amma held up her hand. “You get to keep any of the proceeds.”

Seifer raised his eyebrows. Amma’s shop was the only flower shop in town, and even though there weren’t that many people in Winhill, having the monopoly over the market didn’t exactly hurt her profit. While the relatively new mayor of town didn’t necessarily slight him in wages, he never said no to more gil. Still, it felt wrong taking the old lady’s hard-earned funds.

“I don’t know the first thing about keeping flowers alive,” he said, in an attempt to dissuade her.

She rolled her eyes—why was it that he seemed to elicit that response from so many people?—and shook her head at him. “That’s a blatant lie. I’ve groomed you to be the perfect gardener since the first year you started helping me out. You know what’s good for which plant, you know how often to water them, and I saw you testing the orchids earlier to see whether they were healthy or not. I might call you an idiot all the time, but I know you aren’t one.”

It was stupid, but her small admittance of recognizing whatever little worth he still had caused warmth to blossom in his chest. People rarely looked hard enough to see the tiny—in his opinion, miniscule—flicker of its existence, but the rare occasions when they did always took him off-guard. Uncharacteristically flustered, he shoved his hand through his hair as he mumbled, “Yeah, sure, I’ll watch it for you.”

Looking pleased, like she already knew he was going to agree, Amma gave him a firm nod. “Good. I leave in the morning, so make sure you’re here sometime around sunrise,” she said as she wandered back into the interior room. 

“Sunrise?” Seifer exclaimed, leaning over to peer into the room. “Amma, get back here! You never said anything about sunrise! You know I have to patrol first thing in the mornings!”

“I already worked it out with the mayor,” she explained, walking back into the room with an armful of empty, stacked pots. “Besides, how much harm can a caterchipillar do, anyway?”

_You’d be surprised,_ he thought as he swiped the key from the counter. “You’re already makin’ me regret this,” he said, pointing the tip of the key at her. 

Before she had a chance to respond, he turned and made his way towards the door, and it wasn’t until he was stepping over the threshold that Amma called out, “Remember, Seifer! Sunrise!”

“Yeah, yeah!” he shouted back, just before the door shut. He paused on the dirt path for a second before facing town, absentmindedly twirling the key, lost in thought.

Amma had been right when she’d said he wasn’t entirely clueless about taking care of greenery, but it wasn’t exactly his forte, either. What if she came back and all of her flowers were dead, and the shop had gone bankrupt? What if people stopped coming to the shop because _he_ was running it? Tourists were bound to recognize him, and if Amma had known who he was all along, he was sure other people in town knew, too. His thoughts threatened to spiral out of control, and he kicked at the dirt in frustration.

“Ah, what the hell,” he muttered, trekking back towards the main section of Winhill. He’d already agreed to do it, and he didn’t go back on his promises like some fuckin’ pussy.

  


_Three days later._

  


The cash drawer of the register closed with a jingle, and Seifer lifted a hand in farewell to the customers who were walking out of the shop. Three days of handling this little joint and he still felt incredibly awkward yelling out niceties like, “Have a nice day!” or “Thanks for coming in!” so he settled for a slightly less awkward, half-hearted wave instead. Niceties had never sounded normal or genuine coming from him.

It was still far beyond his comprehension as to why Amma had entrusted the shop to him in the first place. He was obviously way out of his element, and he felt like a fraud; he wasn’t some normal guy who owned a flower shop and cared about his customers’ satisfaction. Far from it. Despite that, he’d promised the old lady that he’d help, so help he did. 

With a sigh that sounded more like a mixture of a warbled groan and a grunt, he swiped the watering can from the shelf below the register and moved out from behind the counter. He made his way around the room, absentmindedly watering the flowers and occasionally feeling the dirt in certain pots. He’d never admit it aloud, but it was kind of relaxing being on his own and watching the shop, with responsibilities that called for his attention on a daily basis. It gave him some sense of duty, a reason to move around, to work. Sure, patrolling the perimeter of the city to keep the monsters out was rewarding and kept him in good shape, but after doing it twice a day, every day, for the past nine years, perhaps it had been the perfect time for a change of scenery. It also didn’t hurt that Gardening was much like gunblade maintenance in the sense that it kept his mind calm, even though the motions weren’t very taxing. 

Hyne-forbid anyone who knew him in the past see him like this, though. Ten years may have gone by, but he still had his pride, damn it.

As he was watering the lilies, his gaze drifted up and out the window, landing on the rolling waves of the ocean just beyond the cliffs. Unexpectedly, the sight projected him into the past, back to the first days just after the war, when he’d been recovering from having his mind taken over and scrambled. 

He rarely spoke about those days—after all, the people of Winhill pretended not to know who he was, and therefore, had never asked him about the past—but still, they haunted him. It wasn’t so much the actual events of the war that bothered him anymore. Of course he still felt extremely guilty for his part, and his mistakes, but there was no changing things or taking them back, so all he could do was live with the consequences. 

It was the memories of his recovery that bothered him the most.

The sharp, lancing pains that had assaulted his brain for the first few months, tapering off finally at the six-month mark; the cold, all-encompassing shivers that had wracked his body, like he was a recovering addict; the haunted, sunken look his face had taken on as he fought to find a reason to live, without _her_ , without purpose, with the heavy burden of failure upon his shoulders; the absolute silence in his mind once her voice had finally faded from his thoughts. 

He never wanted to feel anything like that again. It was cowardly, and he knew it, but that was why he’d ran, why he’d left everything and everyone behind. It made him a shitty friend, and Hyne be damned if he didn’t know that, too. Fujin and Raijin had been there with him through every step of his recovery, every sleepless night, every scream and every moment of panic—even though he’d pushed them away during the war. They’d forgiven him instantly and it was almost like the good ol’ days, except for the fact that his brain had been all kinds of fucked up.

He just couldn’t stand the way they’d babied him, constantly asking if he was okay or if he needed anything. He hated the look in their eyes every time they saw him; he could see them wondering if he was going to make it, if he’d survive this, and the concern and constant judgment tore him apart. Though he knew it wasn’t ever intentional on their part, it still drove him crazy enough to leave only a few months after the end of the war.

Winhill had seemed like a convenient fresh start, a new beginning. When the captain of the fishing boat had explained that their initial route at the beginning of summer included the isolated village, Seifer had thought nothing of it at first. He’d never been to Winhill, and had never known anyone from the tiny town. Somehow, though, over the course of the next week or so, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Eventually, he’d informed the captain that once they docked near the village, he wouldn’t be returning to Balamb with the crew. 

He didn’t even tell Fujin and Raijin that he had no intention of coming back when he’d said goodbye that morning. He suspected they already knew, with the way Raijin had practically crushed his ribs in a hug before he’d walked out the door, and the look that Fujin had given him with her single, all-knowing eye.

Ten years was a long time to go without speaking to two of your closest friends, the only two people in the world who’d really seemed to care about him, and he wondered how they were doing. He knew that, in theory, it was easy enough to pick up the phone. But if he called them, it was almost as if he was regressing somehow, giving in to his weak desire to have someone nearby who understood how he felt, what he’d gone through; every time he went to pull out his phone, something always stilled his hand. His first year in Winhill without them had been hard, having to cope with his relentless thoughts and sleepless nights on his own, but he’d managed to pull through—on his own, somehow. Calling them felt like a betrayal to himself, as stupid as that sounded.

A loud, chirping noise blared into his thoughts, and his right eye twitched at the interruption. A few seconds later, he realized it was his cell phone, and he reached into his front pocket and pulled it out, nearly dropping the watering can in his haste. Clumsily, he set the can down on the shelf and lifted the phone to his ear once he’d answered it, not bothering to check who it was.

“Hey.”

“Seifer! I hope you’re doing well?” 

A decade had done little to affect Cid Kramer’s distinctive voice, and it filtered through the earpiece, warm and impassioned. With an inward grimace of recognition, Seifer turned away from the window and leaned back against the shelf. Tucking one of his arms underneath the opposite elbow, he said, “I’m fine. How are you and Matron?”

“We’re doing well. The kids keep us busy, you know how it goes.”

No, he didn’t. He didn’t have kids. How the hell was he supposed to know how that went? “Uh, yeah, that’s good. Right?”

“Oh, of course! Edea loves having them around. Listen, speaking of which, it’s been awhile since we’ve seen you. I was wondering if you were planning to stop by per usual this year?”

“Per usu—” Something clicked in his head. “Shit, is it already almost July?”

Cid chuckled. “The official first day of summer was just a couple of days ago, son—” Seifer grimaced at the term. “—so yes, it’s almost July. I know you normally come around the first week of the month, so we thought we’d just check in with you.”

“Yeah, I—shit, I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I’m actually helping out a . . . friend . . . with a favor, right now. Damn it, I don’t know if I can make it this year,” he mumbled, rubbing his chin absentmindedly; his three-day stubble scratched at his fingers.

Hyne, did that make him feel like shit. It might be stupid, or useless, to think that he could make up for his past mistakes by doing things to offset his guilt _now,_ but that’s what he continued to do with Cid and Matron. Every summer, for the past ten years, he returned to the Orphanage for about a week. 

He didn’t do very much, just menial tasks like weed their garden—guess Amma was more right about his ability to keep plants alive than he’d thought—and patch up the walls and walkways, if needed. He never really helped out with the kids, mostly because they were all terrified of him, and sometimes, he wondered if he wasn’t equally as terrified of them. Again, it was stupid, but being there, helping them, somehow made him feel like he wasn’t a complete waste of space. He knew that even if he continued to help them over the remainder of his life, he would never stop feeling guilty. 

That was just a fact, a never-ending penance he would pay until his last breath.

Cid spoke again, sounded disappointed this time around. “Oh, I see. I know Edea was really looking forward to seeing you.”

_Hyne-damn it._ “I know . . . When I said I’d help out over here, I didn’t even think about it screwing with my usual schedule,” he replied, running his hand through his hair. 

“No, it’s fine! I’m glad that you’ve made friends there. It seems like you’ve really made it a home. I’m happy about that, Seifer. We worry about you, and it’s a relief to hear that.”

_What am I, twelve again?_ “Yeah, thanks. Listen, maybe I can still make it out there for a few days.”

“If it will disturb your responsibilities there, we understand, son. There’s always next year.”

That prompted a mental image of Cid, puttering around the Orphanage and trying to climb ladders to hammer stuff himself, perched precariously on a rickety rung before slipping off and falling to the ground, and the visual made Seifer cringe—this time, outwardly. 

Vigorously, he shook his head. “No, look, it’s fine. I’ll work it out. I’ll head out in a few days, and stick around for the weekend or something. I’m not gonna bail out on you guys.”

To his surprise, Cid didn’t protest. Instead, he said, “That sounds wonderful, I’ll be sure to let her know.” Quietly, before hanging up, he added, “Thank you, Seifer. It will mean a lot to her. Be safe getting here!” 

Seifer let his arm drop, and his hand fell back against his thigh with a slight thump. He stared around at the shop, surrounded by the ambrosial scent of the flowers, and their vivid, alluring colors. Running his tongue along the back of his teeth, he tried to form a plan, but came up short. He’d promised Amma to watch the shop for as long as she needed him there, which, as she’d specified, she wasn’t sure on exactly how long that would be. He couldn’t just up and leave the shop unattended. Then again, he would only be gone for a few days, as opposed to his usual week, so maybe it _wouldn’t_ be so bad . . .

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he questioned aloud, tossing his head back in frustration. It banged against the glass with a thud, and he immediately shot forward, cradling the crown of his skull. 

“Hyne-damn it!”

  


_A little over a week later._

  


The clash of the waves as they broke against the cliff face enveloped Seifer as he approached the Cape of Good Hope, nestled in the cabin of his little dinghy. Well, maybe “dinghy” wasn’t quite the right word. His boat, a gift from the captain of his former fishing crew, did have a motor and a semi-open cabin that provided shelter from the sun, which came in handy. It seemed like the sun’s rays always burned brighter and fiercer on the open sea than it did on land. Despite the added shelter, the boat was no bigger than his kitchen back home; the “deck” was only slightly larger than the size of the cabin. 

Even though Seifer had tried to refuse the gift—he didn’t have the most positive outlook on charity—the captain had been adamant. In Seifer’s opinion, he hadn’t done much during his employment to deserve such generosity, but for whatever reason, the captain had returned a couple of years later and insisted on leaving his spare boat for Seifer. Without giving him a chance to protest, the captain had delivered his produce and set off for Balamb once more, tipping his hat in farewell from the deck. As it turned out, the gift did end up coming in handy for Seifer’s annual trips to the orphanage. Perhaps it had even been part of the reason he’d started going—a push in the right direction, so to speak.

When he was a few yards out from the shore, he headed out of the cabin to prepare to land. Gradually, he slowed the boat down until it was almost crawling forward, crouching to brace himself as he concentrated on feeling the bottom. When he felt the slightest nudge, he shut off the motor and subsequently hopped overboard, splashing into waist-deep water. With a plethora of grunts that proved he was most definitely not eighteen anymore, he pulled the boat farther inshore until the water was just above his knees. Quickly, with familiar motions, he turned the boat around so that the bow was facing open sea, and tossed the anchor into deeper depths. After grabbing his bag out of the cabin, he trekked up the hill towards the orphanage.

The closer he got to the front door, the more he felt that familiar sense of calm settle over him. He’d never really understood why or how it worked, but whenever he was here, it was as if all of his prior tension, and all the ghosts of the past disappeared—except the one that happened to live here, of course. 

It was why he always felt so torn coming back. 

Out of the entire year, it was the only week he managed to get sound sleep and feel truly rested. But at the same time, it left him with an underlying current of discomfort, likely due to the mixture of his lingering guilt and his pathetic attempts at impossible redemption. That, and even though he knew Matron was now the Matron of old—the one who’d bandaged his knee when he’d fallen, or baked him cookies because he’d complained about things never going his way—he still had a hard time looking directly into her eyes. All he saw was the molten, flickering gold of the past.

Up ahead, the glistening stone of the marble columns awaited him. As the sun hit them, they gleamed in a way they hadn’t since he was a child, and he was filled with a rare sense of pride. He and Cid had repaired those columns themselves, and he had been the one to prune and nurture the gardens before the entrance back to their former glory. It was heartwarming to see the orphanage in such amazing condition, and a rare smile teased at the corners of his lips.

As he was staring up at the facade, the front door opened and Cid stepped outside to greet him with arms wide open. “Seifer! We’re so happy you made it here all right!”

He shifted his bag on his shoulder as his smile morphed into a tight, less sincere version. It wasn’t that he _disliked_ Cid, but the older gentleman’s enthusiasm and natural mirth often set him on edge. That, and his never-ending optimism. He reminded him of someone else in that manner, but he couldn’t quite pin his finger on who. 

Once his pseudo-father stood just before him, he said, “Hey, Cid.”

“Come in, come in. We’re already getting dinner ready and the kids are out on the beach right now, so the house is pretty quiet. I know how you prefer that.”

Didn’t that just make him sound like the world’s largest asshole? Who hated kids? Instead of voicing his thoughts, Seifer shrugged and replied, “I mean, it’s an orphanage.”

Cid chuckled as he led the way into the main room. “I suppose that’s true,” he noted, continuing on towards the kitchen.

Seifer nodded, unsure of what else to say, and started to make his way up the stairs to the recently added second floor. He and Cid had built the additional floor three summers ago to make more room for the children downstairs. Matron had requested a couple of spare bedrooms and a bathroom be added for when guests came to visit, like Seifer or someone else in the original gang. He didn’t speak to any of them—and hadn’t since that final day during the war—but he was sure they visited when he wasn’t around.

When he was mid-step, Cid hurried back into the main room and called out, “Seifer, wait!”

He froze, swaying ever-so-slightly as he fought to keep his balance. After setting his foot back down, he glanced over his shoulder at Cid, his brows furrowed slightly in annoyance. “Yeah?”

“Edea actually set up a more permanent space for you, since you come every summer. No sense in having you use that tiny old room,” he explained with a chuckle that now sounded slightly nervous, if Seifer didn’t know any better.

Considering he and Cid had built that room together, he knew that Cid knew that room was in no way “tiny”. Suspicious, he trekked back down the few stairs he’d already climbed and hopped off the last step, landing back on the stones with a slight thud. “Okay,” he drawled. “What about the other room?”

“It’s being used for storage. Super disorganized right now. Follow me,” Cid instructed, heading out the back door that led to the patio.

_What the hell is the old man up to?_

They traipsed down the path that wound through the garden, and just before they hit the flower field, Cid hung a left and led Seifer to the shed that stood on the edge of the property.

_The fuckin’ tool shed? Seriously?_ he thought with a sneer. 

When they reached the door, Cid about-faced and gestured to the shed with an extremely misplaced look of pride—at least, it was misplaced in Seifer’s opinion. 

“Tada!” Cid announced. 

He must’ve seen the look on Seifer’s face, because when Seifer opened his mouth to speak, Cid hurriedly held up his hands and added, “I know what you’re thinking: ‘This is the tool shed. Why would they put me out here?’ _But_. . . when Edea heard that you were still planning on coming out this year, she thought it would be the perfect time to renovate this for you, so I’ve been working on it all last week.”

Instead of responding, Seifer squinted up at the shed, inspecting its appearance. It _did_ look significantly cleaner than the last time he’d been here. The stucco had been cleaned off, the windows looked clearer than he’d ever seen them, and they’d replaced the door with something a bit heavier and more secure than the rickety old wood one that had been there before. Figuring the least he could do was give them the benefit of the doubt, he shrugged in acceptance. 

Cid took it as a positive sign, and unlocked the door before heading inside. Seifer ambled after him, and once he stepped inside, he nearly dropped his bag in shock. 

The interior of the shed looked vastly different than he remembered. There were no longer any cobwebs, or half-broken shelves that held various tools he often used in the garden. Instead, the floors had been refinished and on the opposite side of the shed, a small but still comfortable-sized bed rested against the wall. Next to it stood a nightstand, and in the far corner, a section of the shed had been separated to create a bathroom with a standing shower. 

Speechless, Seifer’s gaze flitted around the room, unable to stay in one place for long. Eventually, when he still hadn’t commented on anything, Cid piped up. “Do you like it?”

He started and set his bag down on the cozy-looking loveseat that was just to his left. “Yeah, it’s . . . you did this yourself in just one _week_?”

The older man’s chest puffed out with pride as he said, “I did! I mean, Edea helped with some of the design choices, of course. I know nothing about matching color palettes.”

Seifer chuckled softly as he walked farther into the room, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Where’d you end up putting all of the tools?” 

“Ah! This was also Edea’s idea. I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Cid said with a fond expression. He made his way over to the wall adjacent to the bathroom and slid open a pocket door that Seifer hadn’t even noticed was there. “There wasn’t really anywhere else we could put them, so we had to find a solution to keep them in here somehow. So she designed this door that slides into the other half of the wall, and the tools are all hung up in here!”

Impressed, Seifer joined Cid in front of the “tool closet”. “That _is_ something else.”

Cid nodded, his eyes trained on the tools hanging up in neat rows on the wall. “Well, anyway, we didn’t add a kitchen because she still wanted you to join us for meals and whatnot. But she figured a private space of your own would be nice.”

His throat swelled with emotion and he ran his hand through his hair, trying to find the appropriate words to say. He’d never really had a space of his own, aside from the miniscule dorm room at Garden, and this had been built _especially_ for him. Knowing someone had put that much thought and care into his well-being made him uncharacteristically emotional, and knowing that it had been Cid and Matron of all people, made his guilt grow exponentially. 

As if he understood what Seifer was struggling with, Cid clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Dinner’s at the usual time, so it’s up to you what you do until then! We uh—there’s a guest staying with us, which is why you couldn’t stay in your usual room. If you see her around, just . . . I just wanted you to know she’s here.”

“Am I not allowed to talk to her?” Seifer questioned, crossing his arms in defense.

“No, no, of course you can—if you want to, that is.”

“And why wouldn’t I want to?”

Cid waved his hand in the air as he crossed over the threshold. “These things are . . . complicated. I’ll leave it up to you, either way,” he replied, before waving and shutting the door behind him.

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Seifer asked the empty room, his confusion surmounting enough to be spoken aloud.

He stood there for a few minutes, stewing and gazing around the room. Eventually, all the fight seeped out of him and he crossed the shed to rummage through his bag for a change of clothes. He’d switched outfits at least once on his way here from Winhill, but if he was going to be meeting strangers and, inevitably, be surrounded by children, he might as well smell less . . . well, rank. 

Hell, they were already afraid of him as it was. It might be a good idea not to make it worse. 

Change of clothes in hand, he headed for the meager bathroom. As he was about to pass through the doorway, the wall of tools caught his eye and he paused, looking over at the now-organized assortment. The muscle in his cheek twitched as he contemplated whether to shower now, or try and get some work done around the orphanage, and eventually, logic won out. When he and Cid had passed by the garden on the way to the shed, it had looked a little worse for wear; Cid had likely spent more time and attention on remodeling the shed than ensuring his tomatoes were in top shape. There was no sense in showering and changing into fresh clothes now, if the garden needed tending to.

Plus, he did owe Cid and Matron for fixing up the shed for him.

Turning around, he headed back for the door and deposited his clothes on top of his bag. After stripping out of his t-shirt, leaving him in just a white wifebeater, he headed back out into the blinding sunlight.

  


_Two hours later._

  


_Hyne, when was the last time Cid touched these damn things?_

Seifer fingered the brittle leaves of the tomato plant, grimacing in disappointment and disgust when one of them broke into little pieces and floated down to the dirt. All his hard work, gone. With a sigh, he grabbed the watering can from the ground where he’d set it beside him, and started on the long journey to breathing life into the plants again. Without constant vigilance, it was easy for them to quickly wither in the strong, relentless summer heat. 

After resetting the stakes that kept the plants upright, he continued along the row, scoffing in disbelief every so often when he came across another one that was near death. When he was at the second to last one—the one that needed the most attention—he heard peals of laughter drifting up from the beach. 

Matron must’ve sent the children down to play in the water today, due to the nice weather, and he glanced up from his work, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. As much as kids irritated him, it would take one heartless asshole to not smile at the sound of the children’s laughter.

As he’d suspected, when his gaze flitted over to the orphanage, Matron was standing on the back patio with a tray in her hand. She was too far away for him to see what the tray held, but when he squinted, he thought it might be . . . lemonade? The thought of ice-cold lemonade had his throat drying up instantly, and he swallowed roughly, trying to assuage his sudden thirst. 

When she glanced in his direction, he lifted his hand in a wave. It looked like she nodded in response, though it was difficult for him to tell. When his arm was halfway back down to his side, a slim, short figure stepped out from the orphanage and came up to stand beside Matron. From the distance he was at, he couldn’t quite see their face, but something about them looked familiar. 

_Oh, must be their ‘guest’,_ Seifer noted to himself. Shrugging in indifference, he bent down again and got back to work on the tomato plant he’d been focusing on before.

Just short of ten minutes later, he was about to finish working on the final plant when a rustling of leaves from behind him caught his attention. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion. When nothing popped out, he turned back to the plant. He’d just driven the trowel into the dirt at the base of the stalk, when he heard the rustling again. 

This time, when he turned around, he stayed put, staring intently at the still-broken column behind him. He didn’t have to wait long, because a few seconds later, a face slid out from behind the pillar. Still, they were slightly too far away for him to see their face clearly enough, but he thought he might’ve recognized them. A girl? With brown hair?

They dove back behind the safety of the pillar with a squeak— _Definitely a girl_ —and Seifer scoffed in amusement to himself before turning back to the plant. 

Maybe it was an older kid that Cid and Matron had brought in recently—she’d looked small enough to be in her early teens, maybe. Either way, if she wanted to spy on him in hiding, he didn’t particularly care. He’d had his fair share of gawkers, and though he didn’t thrive on the attention like he had in his youth, he didn’t care enough to chase them off, either. He knew some of the crazy stories the kids at the orphanage told each other about him; it had to have been hard not to try and fill in the blanks with their imagination. None of them had ever spoken directly to him, but they could always see him on the verge of the property.

Monster hunter, Galbadian murderer—that one hit a little _too_ close to home—and some sort of monster-human hybrid. Some days, he wondered if he had been a monster. After all, how could he have done the things he’d done and still be considered human? He supposed it was the remorse, and intense regret, that made him human.

His morbid train of thought quickly sent him spiraling downwards into pitiful, self-hatred, and he violently jabbed the tip of the trowel into the dirt before running both his hands through his hair. When his fingertips reached the ends, they tightened, pulling the strands from his scalp almost painfully. He let out a frustrated grunt before rising to his feet and propping his hands up on his hips, gritting his teeth together as he stared off into the distance. 

_Hyne-damn it, I need a drink._

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he pushed it out, disgusted with himself. He’d put that struggle of his past long behind him, and he refused to let himself sink so low as to go back at the first sign of stress, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. 

That was why the first year in Winhill had been so bad. The silence of his mind had been both a relief, and a curse. It drove him mad, and during the night hours when he tried to sleep, the whispers of _her_ voice ghosted back to him like a long-lost love. He’d wanted to reach out and grasp the tendrils of her touch, but at the same time, be rid of her completely. In an attempt to drive her out for good, he’d gone on weekly benders, spending all of what little money he’d accumulated as a cadet and during the war. Over the course of a year, his addiction had spiraled out of control.

One night, when he’d been wandering the town, belligerently drunk, he’d stumbled in front of Amma’s shop and passed out cold. She’d opened the shop door on him the next morning. Being the type of woman she was, she didn’t let him make excuses for his problem. To help him shake the habit, she’d started giving him a different task every day, and eventually set him up for the patrol job.

She’d helped him out more than he’d deserved. He was damn sick of owing so many people for so many things.

Hitting a low he hadn’t reached in years, he let out a sudden shout of anger and stomped back to his shed, final tomato plant forgotten. He threw open his door and it banged against the wall with a heavy thud; a spare trowel fell from the peg on the wall and clattered onto the wooden floor.

Collapsing onto the couch, absolutely drained of energy, he dropped his head into his hands with a deep, world-weary sigh. 

Minutes ticked by, possibly hours, and by the time he lifted his head, Seifer wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed. Now, it was just past sunset, and the sky out his window was tinged with lavender and burnt orange. Just above the horizon, a slight haze of navy was creeping up; night threatened to take over. 

Exhausted, and more than just physically, he rose from the couch and grabbed the change of clothes he’d planned on using earlier. He stumbled to the bathroom and slowly shut the door behind him, before reaching over to turn on the shower. After placing his clean clothes out of the water’s spray, he stripped and threw his old sweaty clothes into the corner of the room. He stepped into the stream of surprisingly warm water and just stood there, his face pointed upwards towards the faucet. 

Instead of his mind racing as per usual, this time, he simply felt . . . numb. The water washed over him, but he didn’t feel the stress, tension, or regret leave him. They were too far in him; their claws had dug in too deep and refused to let him be free.

Again, he wasn’t sure how long he stood there. When the water started to run cold, he shut it off and realized he’d forgotten to grab a towel. With a sigh, he grabbed his clean shirt instead and ruffled the wet strands of his hair, trying to pull the moisture out as best he could. Afterwards, he ran the damp cotton over his body and pulled on his underwear and pants. 

He returned to the main room and draped his shirt over the end of the bed to dry. There was one other clean shirt in his bag, and he pulled it over his head, figuring he could wear the other one tomorrow. There was no way he was wearing the dirty one again before washing it, though. It was well past its use.

Now clad in clean clothing, he fell onto the bed, causing the blanket to puff out underneath him. With a deep breath, he propped his head up on his arms and stared up at the ceiling, noting one spot in the eaves that Cid had missed while painting. Somehow, that little moment of clarity in the fog of his past brought him back to the present, and he shook his head at his own moroseness. Old age was making him way too reflective.

His eyes slid shut, and he focused on evening out his breathing. It had been a long day of traveling, and then he’d thrown physical labor on top of that, so perhaps his body would be worn out enough to let him sleep for at least a few peaceful, uninterrupted hours. 

_Just a . . . little bit . . . ___

  


Her voice swirled through his dreams, transforming them into nightmares—the same nightmares he’d spent the past ten years trying to escape. When her voice grew more insistent like it always did, and the puckered scars in his shoulder from her elongated claws started to burn, he bolted upright in bed, ripped from his sleep. His chest heaved, and every inch of his skin was slick with sweat. 

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his elbows on them and ran his fingers through his damp hair—though whether it was from sweat or his earlier shower, he wasn’t quite sure. 

After his breathing slowed to an even, steady pace, he looked up, staring off into space at nothing in particular. Absentmindedly, he scratched at the stubble along his jawline, and the _scritch-scritch_ of it filled the silence. When the sound threatened to drive him insane, he darted off the bed and proceeded to pace around the room. Every time he woke from a nightmare, which was every night, he was always left feeling extremely restless. Tonight was no different. 

A few minutes passed, filled with heavy pacing, and finally, frustrated, he grabbed his leather jacket from his bag and scurried out of the shed. The coat was perhaps a bit too thick and long in the back for the weather, but it was the only one he’d brought. The length reminded him of his old trenchcoat, and that, strangely enough, comforted him. 

He stalked out into the meadow as he shrugged it on and shoved his hands into the low pockets. Why he chose the meadow as a destination, he wasn’t quite sure. Maybe because he knew it went on for miles, and he wouldn’t feel claustrophobic like he had in the tiny five-by-five room he was staying in. Or, maybe because he assumed no one else would wander out this far at whatever Hyne-forsaken hour it had to have been. 

Mid-stride, he glanced upwards and the sight caught his attention enough to make him pause. The moon was at its apex in the sky, surrounded by the never-ending smattering of stars. For whatever reason, the reminder that he was someone unimportant, miniscule in the grand scheme of things, brought him back down from his anxiety-ridden high. He threw his head back, taking in the entire view that stretched from one end of his vision to the other. 

Lost in the universe, his eyes slid shut as he felt the tension seep out of him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stood there in the middle of the meadow, unmoving and enjoying the cool night breeze as it caressed his face. 

Out of nowhere, something smacked right into his back and he pitched forward, swearing under his breath in surprise. When he caught his balance, he spun around in annoyance. Standing right in front of him was the shortest girl he’d ever seen, except for one he’d barely known years ago. She’d stumbled back after running into him, and had spilled what smelled like brandy all over herself. 

__Okay, not a girl. Old enough to drink a whole fuckin’ bottle of brandy, so I’m gonna assume woman. Wait . . ._ _

Her brunette locks caught the moonlight, and he realized that her hairstyle looked somewhat familiar, though there was something just slightly different about it. Longer, he decided. A light went off in his head, and he realized she was the person he’d caught spying on him earlier. There was something about her that seemed even more familiar, aside from her hair, but the memory and recognition hovered on the fringes of his mind, and he couldn’t quite pull it to the front. 

Then she straightened, and he realized that he was staring straight into the vivid green eyes of the Messenger Girl from Squad A. One of the ghosts from his past. One of the reasons he would forever be paying his penance. 

Selphie Tilmitt. 


	5. Chapter 5

Besides Irvine, Selphie had spent the least amount of time around Seifer. They hardly knew each other. But the way they had battled one another during the war had been so intimate. And many of the things the sorceress and Seifer did, even the things he wasn’t directly involved in, felt like personal attacks against Selphie. He’d grown up with her, he’d even gone to Garden for a little while when she had. He was _crazy_ , especially at the end, when he was wounded, beat, with no chance of victory, but he still tried to stop them. Even Fujin and Raijin had abandoned him then.

He didn’t look crazy now. Surprised, uncomfortable, a good deal older, but not crazy. Or maybe he never had been. It made it easier to think about all the things he participated in if she used that word. But seeing him now, thinking about the few times the others mentioned him, how he used to be before the war, she realized how wrong that was. _Not crazy, just . . ._

Seifer’s cerulean eyes glanced off to the side, pointedly avoiding _her_ eyes. His face shifted afterward, until she only saw his profile.

“Seifer?” Selphie asked, just to be sure. 

The sound of his name had him flinching. Or . . . the sound of his name in _her_ voice? He must have forgotten what it sounded like until now. She sure hadn’t forgotten his, even if they say the voice is the first thing you forget about a person. Enough dreams, featuring him, had penetrated her mind to keep that voice as intact in her memory as the last time she heard it in her presence.

_When was that? Lunatic Pandora? Right before Adel . . . Right before time compression . . ._

A breeze passed through the meadow, unusually cold, even for the night, and Selphie shivered. It passed through Seifer, and he seemed unfazed. His long coat was a little different, but looked warm nonetheless. It swayed around his calves and then went still.

When he spoke, the claws that had dug into her skin since the war tightened their grip.

“Cid said someone else was here. Must have been you,” he said.

The claws dug in deeper, to her bones, but she was surprised to hear a difference in his voice. It was subtle, only noticeable because she was so focused on his voice to begin with: rougher on the edges, like frayed paper, and more . . . sincere? Before, when he spoke, it was just words coming out of his mouth, but this, even in this one line, it sounded like more than that. He gave them care, he nurtured them, said them because they were necessary and truly desired.

And Selphie had no idea what to say in response. She’d spent a decade fearing and hating this person in front of her, but she’d never actually thought she’d see him again, so there was no planned action, no planned speech. For once, she was clueless, and that terrified her.

“Well . . . what do you think you’re doing out here in the meadow alone in the middle of the night, huh?” she sputtered, and rocked on her heels a bit. The alcohol was really starting to kick in now, now at the utterly most perfect moment--as in the most terrible moment.

Seifer looked at her and his eyebrows came together. He almost looked angry, or maybe that was his bewildered or confused face. She didn’t know him well enough to know, and adding that to her lack of skill in reading people in the first place, she was entirely ignorant. This conversation would not go well, no matter what subject they chose.

“I’m not the one who’s drunk,” he muttered.

“Hey, I am _not_ drunk. I only just started drinking,” she defended. She wanted to pick the bottle up, but that would leave her vulnerable, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, not even for one second. Monster hunter, monster-human hybrid, Galbadian murderer. The words repeated over and over in her head. The children’s stories were obviously exaggerated, but they had to arise from something or somewhere, right? Who knew what truth lay in those stories.

Selphie pointed a finger at him. “You still haven’t answered my question!” She didn’t want him to answer it, because she hadn’t wanted to ask it in the first place. It was obvious he was out there doing the exact same thing she was, minus the alcohol.

“The fuck you want me to say?” he snapped. “I’m just out here minding my own damn business.”

Selphie flinched back and avoided his eyes. “So, you’re not poisoning the tomatoes?”

Seifer’s face phased through three different expressions in the span of one second, finally settling on something that was definitely bewilderment. “Why would I . . . what the hell are you talking about?”

She put up her hands and shook her head. “I’m . . .” Hiccup. In embarrassment, she brought her shoulders in and ducked her head. “I’m not sure. I don’t know . . . There’s so much I want to say, or, maybe I just need to punch you in the face. I don’t know.”

“Fine,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Then punch me in the face. Get it over with.”

Selphie gave herself little time to prepare. Suddenly her fist was flying. Seifer easily dodged, and she went tumbling towards the ground. Luckily, he took her wrist and spun her around. Only when she had regained her balance did he let go, even taking a few steps back like he was afraid to touch her again.

“Hey, if I wasn’t--”

“Drunk?” Seifer suggested dryly.

Selphie narrowed her eyes at him. Her wrist burned where he’d held on. “Fine, fine, if I wasn’t _drunk_ then I could have totally taken you down!”

Seifer smirked. “Something tells me that’s true.”

Taken aback, Selphie herself stumbled a few steps away from him. The both of them faced each other, a strangely large distance between them, and yet still too close for the both of them.

“What’s my name?” she suddenly asked.

Seifer’s lips parted a little in surprise.

“You remember it right?” she pushed.

It had been so long since he’d said it, she couldn’t even remember when or where it’d been. 

“Selphie,” he said.

Selphie’s eyes grew hot. “That was an easy one. What about the names of the students at Trabia Garden? The ones who were killed when you fired missiles at them? Do you know their names?”

Seifer stiffened and his eyes widened somewhat. Still, he said nothing, even after she allowed him several seconds to think about it.

His silence angered her. The heat in her eyes turned to tears, and they spilled out over her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself. “That was you,” she said in a quiet voice. “They died because of you. They were innocent. Kids our age. Younger, too.”

More silence greeted her. The surprise had left his face, and now he just stared at her, the slightest hint of . . . disgust? in its place. There was no way it was directed at her, there was no reason for it to be. So maybe it was for himself. That comforted her a bit. Maybe Cid was right. Seifer had to know what he had managed to do in so little time.

So she was okay with the silence then. It gave her more time to rip in to him, maybe transfer the claws that held her so tight to him. She wanted him to feel her pain. The pain she’d endured for ten years now.

“I was there, I remember,” she continued, voice still quiet, but intensely furious. “You wanted to help us, you went to Timber, but then you . . . you just went with _her_.”

Suddenly, she was shouting at him. “We thought you were dead! All of us, we were _sad_. They said you’d been killed. And then you show up again trying to hurt all of my friends!”

Seifer’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but his face remained unchanged. His eyes, she’d never seen eyes so focused before.

“The place you’d grown up, the place that had sheltered you and nurtured you, tried to make you the best you could be, you betrayed it all in less than a second. You were willing to do anything she said. You didn’t care about anything at all!” she shouted. Her arms thrashed out to the sides, and also turned to fists. Panting, her heart beating quickly, the anger coursed through her veins, and she had to force herself to stay back, to keep her knuckles from going for his head again.

“Even when you were half-alive,” she hissed, the tears finally breaking from her eyes to burn her cheeks. “You still tried to hurt us. Your friends left you, and you still didn’t care. Everything was about glory. What’s the point of glory if you just end up destroying everything? If you end up killing everyone? All you get is a wasteland and ashes and there’s nothing left anyway! The thought of that made you happy?”

Seifer’s disgust shook a little, letting some fear crawl in beside it.

_Yes. You should be afraid of me._

She took a step closer to him, and her hand came forward. But rather than strike him again, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled the two of them closer together. He was almost a foot taller than her, but she glared up at him, her eyes dark and storming.

He was the only thing she could take revenge on. Ultimecia was gone, and Matron was back to her normal self--Selphie would never, _could_ never blame her for the things she did while under Ultimecia’s control. Even if it was awkward between Selphie and Matron, that was nothing. But Seifer, he had done things, he had made it so much more personal than it could have been, and he was _right here_. Though she wished he _had_ been dead, facing him now, drunk or not, was a better medicine than she’d had in a decade.

“You were enjoying it!” Selphie growled. “I could see it whenever you faced us. You enjoyed fighting us. And Rinoa!” The thoughts were coming to her randomly, waking up from their long slumber trapped inside Selphie’s mind. “You gave Rinoa to Adel. A girl you loved. You gave her away like it was _nothing_.”

She pushed him away, only to yank him back, and he just let her, his body possessing the strength of a ragdoll. “And Squall. You saw what Ultimecia did to him at the parade. You _saw_. And you did _nothing_. You fucking tortured him! How could . . . how could a person _do_ that?” Her body trembled, and this time the tears were accompanied with sobs. 

“Dammit,” she cursed herself at losing control in front of him. Anger was one thing, but this was different. She didn’t want him to see this. “Damn you,” she cried, and wiped her wrist over her eyes.

The claws stayed with her. They felt looser, like maybe they were close to finally leaving her, but they were still there.

Her body swayed a little, and she tightened her grip on Seifer’s shirt to keep herself steady. When her equilibrium returned somewhat, she pushed away from him, and gripped the side of her head. And then when she was brave enough, she looked back up at Seifer and her eyes widened.

Seifer was crying. He stared at her in shock and fear, and tears stained his cheeks.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she mumbled without meaning to. She stumbled a little and then bent over to get her bottle. Most of the brandy had sloshed out. Her body winced when it caught a whiff, but she cradled it in her arms nonetheless, and then she looked back up at Seifer.

He was still staring at her.

“I . . .” But she never finished her sentence--not that she knew what it had meant to be. She was turning away, heading back to the orphanage and hoping that when she woke up tomorrow morning this will all have been a dream. Not once did she look back over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there. It wasn’t to check if this was a dream, but because she was scared to. She was scared to look back and perhaps lock eyes once again with Seifer Almasy.

  


_The next day_

  


Nida had to wake her up the next morning. It was noon and her head throbbed with an unforgiving hangover. She hadn’t gone straight to bed last night, rather she’d drunk the rest of the bottle and ended up tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep for hours as she imagined Seifer’s expression. Never in her life would she have expected to see it, especially not staring at her. Fujin and Raijin, maybe, Squall and Rinoa maybe, but not Selphie. She was just Selphie, and Seifer was on this other world, almost.

Or, that’s what she’d always thought. During the war, it had been Squall versus Seifer, and Rinoa fighting her past with him. The rest of the orphanage gang was there too, but farther in the distance, or like they were watching from the base of the mountain as the other three fought high above on the peak.

So why had life decided to place her against Seifer for the first time in ten years? Why hadn’t it chose anyone else?

The words she’d screamed had been ricocheting around her skull from the moment of their birth, and now they were out, they were gone, she felt so empty and strange. The fear was still there, of course, the memories of the pain from the war, but now she had gotten it all out to someone important. What was she supposed to do with the leftover pain now?

Years ago, perhaps Dr. Kadowaki had cured all the others by talking with them, helping through their feelings, the aftereffects of the war, and set them on the path to finally being at peace. Selphie didn’t regret turning down that offer of aid, but for the first time ever, she wondered how different things would be _right now_ if she had indeed spoken to someone then.

_The first person I opened up to was . . . Seifer?_

“Selphie, you okay? Do you need anything? Water?” Nida asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“What?” She blinked out of her reverie and then cringed when she moved her head too fast. “Ugh. No. I’m fine. I just need to get something for my hang--headache.” Slowly, she got to her feet and left Nida behind, heading down to the kitchen in her slept-in clothes from yesterday, outrageous bedhead, and smeared, crusty eye makeup.

No one was there, despite being so close to lunchtime. She smacked into the countertop, groaned, and then turned on the faucet. After it got ice cold, she bent over and drank straight from the gushing stream until she’d had her fill. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned back against the counter, folded her arms, and stared at the floor.

_Fuck._

Someone came into the kitchen. Selphie’s eyes traveled up and her blood chilled when she saw Seifer. Their eyes locked a moment and then he was gone. 

Selphie waited a few more seconds before she allowed herself to breathe again.

Another person came into the kitchen, and Selphie jumped, but then it was only Matron. She must have noticed Selphie’s discomfort, because she gave the tiniest of concerned smiles and said, “Good morning, Selphie. Is everything well with you?”

“Uh . . .” Selphie cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. A classic Selphie grin appeared on her face. “Oh, I’m fine. Slept late is all. It’s been forever since I slept in this late. Ha. Ha ha.”

Matron’s forehead wrinkled, but she just glided over to the refrigerator and said, “You deserve some sleep, Selphie. You work yourself so hard here. I can’t imagine how much you did in Esthar City.” She opened the door and looked at Selphie over the top for a moment before bending over to find ingredients for lunch.

_Esthar . . . Wish I was back there . . ._ Not that she hated it _here_. On the contrary, the orphanage was magical and perfect. She had enjoyed all her days here thus far, finding the imagination and free spirits of the children refreshing after the predictable natures of the people she worked with in Esthar. 

And there was Matron and Cid, acting almost like parents to her, something she’d missed for a long time; before Garden, she’d only lived a couple years with her adoptive parents, and as much as she appreciated what they did for her, they’d had little time to make an impact. She was always moving, even back then, and they never could keep up. Matron and Cid understood her more, especially Matron, even if it wasn’t from the most preferable of circumstances.

Selphie was thankful for her presence especially now.

But Seifer was here. Esthar City had no Seifer. Esthar City was free of anything. The effects of the war had faded surprisingly quickly in the nation. The people had learned and moved on, striving to be their best selves. And Selphie loved helping them achieve that.

The war was back here in the orphanage, surrounded by Selphie seemingly on every side now. There was the good side, Matron, and the bad side, Seifer.

“So how long is Seifer going to be here?” Selphie asked, monotone.

There was a particularly loud clink of glass from the refrigerator, but when Matron appeared, closing the door behind her, arms full of food, she looked unperturbed. She set the ingredients on the counter gently. “It changes by the year. Sometimes he only stays a week, sometimes longer. It depends on what we need at the time.”

“And what do you need now?” she asked, still keeping out any emotion out of her voice, even nonchalance.

Matron set her hand on a block of cheese and she stared at it with gentle eyes. “I’m not quite sure.”

Selphie looked away in the opposite direction of Matron, studying the blotches on a painting of a vase full of blue flowers.

“It’s not my place to say anything,” Matron said, “but if my words help in any way, then I have to try.”

Selphie let her silence be the answer.

Matron continued. “I know more than most what happened to Seifer during the war. Ultimecia may not have been possessing him as directly as she was me, but that means in no way she was not possessing him as well. It was more his soul than his body. She dug her way into his mind and wouldn’t let go, from the very moment he gave her the tiniest opening. The last time you saw him, in Timber, he was already gone, even if he didn’t want to be.”

Selphie’s fingers dug into her skin, and her face scrunched up. The heat was returning to her eyes. _I don’t want to cry again, dammit._

“I won’t say none of his actions were his own. There was a part of him that always strove for glory. Ultimecia fed off of that, used it to her own advantage. She twisted his mind into believing that if he did what she asked, all of his dreams would come true,” Matron continued, her voice unusually quiet. “Though I wasn’t there the whole time, I know it only got worse as time went on. By the time you faced him in Lunatic Pandora . . . I doubt he was even a shred of who he once was, who he always wanted to be.”

Her words made sense. Selphie believed every single syllable. It made her feel worse about her tirade last night in the meadow. Of course she had every right to attack him like that, to let him know just how much he hurt her and her friends. But Seifer was suffering too. For as long as the rest of them.

How was Selphie supposed to hate someone like herself? Picturing him just as the enemy, as just another ultimate incarnation was so much easier than having to think about Matron’s words. If Seifer was a victim too, in part, then who else was Selphie going to exact her revenge on? Ultimecia was gone, Matron long since possessed, and any other players, Galbadian soldiers maybe, were of so little consequence. That left Seifer.

But the Seifer here was different than the one in Selphie’s mind.

Her tears dropped to her arms, and she didn’t try to stop them. They were silent. As long as Matron never saw her face . . .

“He’s come a long way,” Matron said, her voice stronger, more sure of itself. “There’s only one more thing he needs to do now to be at peace. And when that day comes . . .” Selphie could hear the smile in her voice. “You’ll be surprised if you talk to him. To see how much he’s changed, grown more into the man he wants to be.”

There was a sound, like Matron was turning back to the food, opening packages and untying knots. “Are you hungry, Selphie?” she asked, as if they hadn’t just been talking about Seifer and the war, about things that hurt the both of them to remember and acknowledge.

Selphie let out a long sigh. “No. No, thank you, Matron.” She pushed off of the counter and headed over to the medicine cabinet, popping four pain pills into her mouth. Just before she left, she looked over her shoulder at Matron, who had her back to Selphie as she was making lunch. She smiled a little and then headed out back towards the cliff.

The kids were huddled on the ground around Cid, who was reading a story to them. Selphie stood by and watched for a minute or two. Cid was the perfect story teller. He didn’t let a single word go by unnurtured, and often set the book down so he could use both of his hands in grand gestures. Sometimes he even laughed at his own silliness, which made the kids laugh harder as well.

Selphie let them be and continued down to the beach, combing through her hair with her fingers until she imagined it looked presentable. When she finally got to the beach, she pulled her shoes off and sat cross-legged in the sand just in reach of the tide. The cool water gently brushed against her skin, and she let out a contented sigh.

She might have sat there for hours--her skin sure was feeling it. Her eyes were closed, and she sat in a limbo state, mind thinking nothing at all, but still awake.

That is, until someone bothered her. She heard footsteps in the sand, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed Seifer a little ways away, sitting in the sand, ignoring her, staring out over the water. She quickly looked away before he caught her staring, and she stared down at her palms. Quietly, she got to her feet, brushed off some sand, and scurried back up to the orphanage.

Once in her room, she remembered her shoes were still on the beach, but when she glanced out the window, Seifer was still there, so she opted to leave them there until it was safe to go back out again. Instead, she decided to take a shower; sitting underneath the freezing water, her eyes closed once more, hoping the water would somehow clean away the grimy feeling in her stomach as well.

Afterwards, she spent almost twenty minutes just staring at herself in the mirror. After ten years, her hair was almost exactly the same. True, it was a little longer, but she still styled it in the same way. She’d done it for so many years that it took less effort than breathing, almost. But now as she looked at her slowly, drying hair now, she was overcome with the urge to change it, even if for this one day.

It was nothing terribly dramatic, in the end. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and her bangs trimmed to be more even across her forehead. When she looked at herself again in the mirror, though, the person looking back looked so different from who she was used to. Yet, the grey lump in her stomach, the grimy feeling from earlier, neither of them made an appearance, and if just for that, Selphie smiled.

She left the bathroom finally, put on a chiffon t-shirt and rolled up jeans and then was ready to face the world again. When she opened her door, she stopped, and her heart started pounding really hard. There at her feet rested her shoes she’d left on the beach, all cleaned up, not a trace of sand on them. Carefully, she leaned forward and peeked around the hall to see if anyone was still around, and then rested back on her heels again.

Before anything could change, she snatched the shoes and set them securely within the boundaries of her room. Then she closed her door, barefoot, and headed downstairs. She felt like a child looking around every corner to make sure Seifer wasn’t around, but luckily, he ended up being somewhere else, and she could safely make it to the kitchen to grab an actual breakfast--lunch, now that Matron had finished. There was even a bowl in the refrigerator with Selphie’s name on it.

Selphie took it outside with her. She stood amongst the pillars, looking out over the meadow, now bright green dotted with wildflowers, rather than the dark blue bathed in moonlight from the previous night. There were a surprising amount of big, fluffy clouds in the sky, and occasionally the orphanage was plunged into a few minutes of shade.

When she was finished eating, she found the kids and took over for Matron and Cid to let the older couple rest. Nida was there too, and for just a second, Selphie wondered where he was even sleeping. It had been two weeks, though, so wherever it was, it couldn’t have been too bad.

Halfway through an arithmetic lesson, Seifer came casually walking in, already saying, “Hey, Cid, have you seen the scythe? The grass outside the garden’s getting a little long and I don’t want . . .” He froze in the doorway and stared at the multiple pairs of eyes on him.

Selphie was holding a flashcard in one hand, and she stared at him now as if she had been caught in the act of something terrible and embarrassing.

Seifer awkwardly looked away at the wall and said, “Sorry, I didn’t . . .” And then he was gone.

Selphie set the flashcard on her lap and stared at it.

From beside her, Nida said, “Holy Hyne! Was that _Seifer Almasy_?”

The kids started whispering excitedly amongst each other. Selphie wondered if that was the closest they’d ever seen the monster-human hybrid himself.

“Nida, take over, will you?” Selphie asked, abruptly handing him the card deck.

“Sephy! Where you going?” one of the kids cried, and a whole chorus rang up, all the voices begging her to stay.

Selphie bent over, resting her hands on her knees, and smiled. “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right back. I can’t leave your whole math lesson to Nida now, can I?” She giggled and the kids laughed with her.

“Hey!” Nida protested.

Selphie just waved him off and then slipped out. In the hallway, she glanced either way, and then headed in the direction of the tool shed. The place was empty of both tools and Seifers, and she didn’t want to go _into_ the shed itself, because if he was in there, that place was far too small for comfort. 

She switched directions towards the garden, and as she was passing a column, noticed the scythe haphazardly resting against it. She backtracked a few steps and then bent over to scrutinize it. “What are you doing over here? Doesn’t seem like a good place for a scythe to be.” With a glance to both her sides, she picked up the scythe and rested it back and over her shoulder. “Sure is big.”

Scythe in hand, Selphie continued her hunt for Seifer. She had no real desire to speak with him, but she couldn’t leave everything where it was now. The easy part was over, the part where she could just attack him. But now she was sober, and the hard part was actually communicating. This time she had to hear him speak. Surely he had something to say, and despite everything, she owed him the time to say it.

She must have done ten laps around the house without seeing him. Eventually she came back to the tool shed, sweat sticking to her hairline, shoulder crying out for a reprieve from the scythe. “Where are you?” she said to herself in a sing-song voice. She turned 360, and right when she faced the shed again, Seifer’s figure exited said shed.

Immediately, Seifer flinched back and his hand went to his hip, seemingly for a weapon that was no longer just attached there. When he realized who it was, and that the scythe wasn’t actually the chosen weapon for his murder, he relaxed a little. “Fuckin’ hell . . .”

“Found your scythe!” Selphie said in far too cheerful a voice.

Seifer looked at her warily.

“You should keep a better eye on your weapons. There’s children around you,” she reprimanded, swinging the scythe down from her shoulder and offering it to him.

Still eyeing her in slight suspicion, Seifer took the scythe from her and set it back against the side of the shed.

They stood in a few moments of uncomfortable silence, and then Selphie said, “Well, aren’t you going to thank me? No one else helped you to find your stupid scythe.”

Seifer gave his head a little shake. “What’s wrong with you?” Right after it came out, his eyes widened, like he wished he could take those words back.

Selphie rubbed the back of her neck. “I . . . Well . . . Ha ha.” The laugh died out of her, and she gave him a sober look. “I can’t leave things like I left them last night. I talked to Matron this morning and . . . She knows more about what . . . what was happening with you. And she’s Matron, right? So of course I listened to her . . .”

“What did she say?” Seifer asked, deadpan.

“I’m not saying you’re off the hook from anything you did!” she said loudly, pointing at him. Then her voice got quieter again, “But, I know the war sucked for all of us. Even if it wasn’t in the same way for you as it was for us.”

Seifer folded his arms and looked away. “It’s different when you’re on the losing side.”

_We saved everything. We still had each other. But Seifer lost everything. Even Fujin and Raijin it looks like._

Selphie sucked in a huge breath. “Just tell me, because I really need to know this, more than anything . . . Did you ever try to break free? Even once?”

Seifer’s whole body cringed and he looked at her again. His cerulean eyes were fierce, as was his tone. “I don’t remember.”

“What?” Selphie took a step back. “But . . . How can you not remember? I remember everything from the war!” _Every little Hynedamned thing, and it’s killing me, even now. Everyone else can seemingly forget, even you. So why am I cursed with remembering?_

“You want to know what I _do_ remember?” Seifer asked, eyes still ablaze.

Fear washed over Selphie, and something told her _No. You don’t want to know. It will make everything worse._ But had Seifer ever told anyone what had happened? Or was he like Selphie, always keeping her mouth shut unless it was to spew more lies to everyone she came in contact with? They had been enemies once, so weren’t they perfect targets for the truth? Neither of them were worried about hurting each other with it.

So, in a tiny voice, Selphie said, “Yes.”

“I don’t remember because I don’t remember anything of me,” Seifer said. “I only remember _her_. When I go to sleep, all I hear is her Hynedamned voice in my ear. To me, she’s not dead. She’s still here with her claws in me, using me in any way she damn well pleases like she did in the war.” He paused for a moment, gazing at Selphie evenly. “Do you want to know _how_?”

Selphie just shook her head.

“I made the biggest mistake of my life going with her,” Seifer said. “At least I can regret that. That was the last time I was me until time compression spit me out in the Hyneforsaken desert. So does that at least answer your question?”

This time, she nodded her head.

Seifer turned away, but Selphie held out a hand. “Wait!” she cried, and he turned back again.

With another deep breath, Selphie straightened, clenched her jaw, and said clearly, “Seifer.”

He raised an eyebrow, but still remained where he was.

“I . . . I think I’m ready to try and forgive you,” she said. “It won’t be easy. I still look at you and I . . .” Her fists clenched too, but she kept her cool, kept her voice calm and even. “I still look at you and all these bad memories from the war come back to me, but I know I can fight them. It’ll be my last battle in the war, even if it’s ten years later. So . . .” The next word killed her, but she said it. “Please . . . Don’t run away and I won’t either.”

The breeze picked up, ruffling both of their hair as they stared at each other, and another cloud moved between them and the sun.

Everything was so strange. Just a few weeks ago, Selphie would never have imagined herself standing here in front of Seifer Almasy at the orphanage telling him she was ready to try and forgive him. They had been enemies, even just that morning, but now here they were, two people whose years wrapped around one another from the moment they lived under this roof as children. They were back again, this time older and at least trying to be wiser.

Seeing him brought back memories of the ice in Squall’s chest, and Rinoa strapped to Adel, but it also brought back memories of Seifer chasing after Irvine and Seifer in his more aggressive version of hide-and-seek, and the time he found a frog out in the meadow and he and Selphie named it Rogey. The last two memories were only surfacing now, and the strength of their clarity, especially after being hidden for so many years, took Selphie’s breath away.

When the cloud moved away, and the sun came back, Selphie saw Seifer’s bright cerulean eyes still staring at her, this time not fierce or confused, but they were gentle. It was the same gentleness she often saw in Squall’s eyes.

“Fine,” Seifer said. He looked away before he was caught staring too long. Finally, he was reaching for the scythe. Like Selphie had before, he rested it back on his shoulder and then turned towards the garden. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll keep a closer eye on the tools,” and then he started off.

Selphie clasped her hands behind her back and watched him retreat. A new lump had formed in her stomach, this time more of a blue color, but she wasn’t sure what it was there for. _Ahhhh, what the hell, though!_ With one last look at Seifer, she skipped back into the house.


	6. Chapter 6

Seifer fought to control his pace as he walked away from Selphie. Selphie, the Messenger Girl from Squad A; the annoyingly optimistic one in Squall’s group of . . . friends; a girl from his past—a past he could no longer deny or avoid, it seemed. He could hear her skipping away from him, back towards the orphanage, her steps tapping against the dirt and stones with a lightheartedness he’d always secretly been envious of. Turns out her relentless cheerfulness wasn’t actually a constant thing. He wasn’t sure whether he found that to be a relief or a disappointment.

_When the one person you feel like you’ve got pegged in your mind turns out to suffer from the same nightmares that you do, what the hell do you do then?_

Grunting, he adjusted the scythe on his shoulder—it had started to dig into his muscles a little too much. He headed for the patch of grass that was on the edge of the garden, as he’d originally intended, before accidentally walking in on the kids’ afternoon lessons. Hyne, he felt like an idiot for that. It had been so unexpected to see Selphie sitting on a stool and teaching the children basic arithmetic, that he’d frozen in the doorway and stumbled his way through some half-assed apology. He hadn’t even bothered to finish it before promptly running away, like some little coward. 

With a little more force than necessary, he whacked at the grass that threatened to encroach on the plants, shearing it clean at the base of the stalks. Each swing made his arms ache in a way that was familiar. With a couple more swings, he was completely lost in the motions. Hours passed, and he continued to work until he noticed the world around him was now tinged with shades of burnt orange and rose. Glancing up from his work, he noted how far he’d gotten from his starting point. 

The briefest hint of disappointment spread through him before he stuck the scythe tip-first into the dirt, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. If he hadn’t been so Hynedamned distracted with what had happened over the past day or two, he would’ve made more progress.

He shook his head at his train of thought; it seemed like he was forever doomed to be a disappointment to himself. 

_What the fuck ever_ , he thought bitterly, before yanking the scythe out of the ground and trekking back towards his shed. He was way too old for this shit, and damn it, he’d kill for a cigarette right now. Sadly, he hadn’t brought any, and he knew Matron would highly disapprove of him doing it around the kids—or at all, really. 

When he was passing the main area of the garden, he glanced up at the orphanage, and a light in the window on the first floor caught his eye. He halted in place, transfixed by the sight before him. Selphie was standing in the kitchen with Cid and Edea, laughing so hard at something that tears were streaming down her face. With a wide smile, she reached up and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, much like he’d done earlier with his sweat after finishing his work. Except, there was a stark difference in their situations and in their expressions, and he was struck with the realization that, yet again, he was somehow on the sidelines.

Inside, they were the perfect picture of a true family, a family that included acceptance, forgiveness, _happiness._ He, the child who always strove to be the best, and yet, always seemed to fail, had always been on the perimeter of that dynamic. All throughout his childhood and his time at Garden, he constantly fought to remain in that number one spot—the most important spot—regardless of whether it had to do with family dynamics, the Discipline Committee, the field exam results—anything. Yet, even now as a full-grown man, he was _still_ standing on the outside.

In reflex, he gritted his teeth and his grip on the handle of the scythe tightened. As he was glaring into the window, Selphie happened to glance out and their eyes locked. Part of him desperately wanted her to wave him inside, to include him like no one had in the past, but he knew that would never happen, not this soon, and he was almost relieved when she just nodded in greeting. 

He returned the gesture before continuing on his way. Once he was back in his shed, he hung up the scythe in the tool closet and slid the door shut before heading into the bathroom. Prior to showing up at the orphanage, he really only showered once a day, but physical labor did disgusting things to human beings, and he couldn’t stand being soaked in sweat. 

His shower was quick, but by the time he got out and dressed again, the sun had already sunk below the mountains. The thought of calling it a night appealed to him, but there was a lingering sense of restlessness in him, and he knew if he tried to lay down now, he’d only end up tossing and turning for the next few hours. Going back to the main house sounded like a terrible idea, since he knew Selphie was still awake. That left either the flower field, which apparently was no longer safe, or the beach, which was also no longer safe. There was a fifty-fifty chance of running into her in all three locations.

Frustrated, and feeling like he’d been backed into a corner, he ran his hands through his still-damp hair with a short sigh. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered agreeing not to run away anymore. That was close enough to a promise, something he rarely, if ever, made. He let out another groan, knowing that now he had no choice but to stick to his words and live with the consequences, regardless of what they might end up being.

Without warning, his stomach let out a loud growl, and he sighed as he shook his head. Apparently, his choice had been made for him.

With less than enthusiastic steps, he headed towards the orphanage. When the window that he’d seen Selphie in earlier came into view, now dark and empty, he let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He may have promised not to run away, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he had to be excited for their little “talks”. 

As quietly as possible, he let himself in the back door and beelined for the kitchen. Matron always made sure to save him a portion of their dinner that night if he didn’t make it in to join them—which was practically all the time. It wasn’t that he intentionally avoided the dinner table. It just seemed like he had way too much work to get done to quit mid-evening; he had no problem with eating later at night when everyone had gone to sleep. 

He opened the fridge, eagerly scanning the shelves for his bowl. After shifting around some items on the top shelf, he finally found it. There, in its usual back, far corner, sat a bright aqua bowl labeled, “Seifer”. 

With something akin to a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, he moved to pull it out of the fridge. That was when the overhead light flipped on, surprising him, and he banged his head on the freezer door when he went to bolt upright. 

“Fuckin’ Hyne!” he cursed, backing up a little bit before he attempted to straighten again. He turned around as he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, ready to rail at one of the kids. Instead of a child, he saw Matron standing in the doorway with an amused expression. 

“Oh . . . Matron. I, uh—” He broke off and cleared his throat. An apology seemed strangely insignificant, so instead, he lifted the bowl in his hand and said, “I got hungry.”

“I figured you would. You always do,” she replied with a smile as she glided into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he mumbled, picking at the edge of the plastic covering the bowl.

“Are you going to warm it up?” 

“What?” he asked, looking up sharply at her.

She pointed at the bowl in his hand. “Are you going to warm your food?”

“Oh, uh, no. I’ll just . . . I can eat it cold. The shed doesn’t have a kitchen or anything.”

“No, but we do have a microwave over there,” Matron said, pointing at the small table beside the fridge.

Seifer whirled around, and when he saw the compact white microwave resting on the tiny mobile island, he groaned inwardly. How had he missed it? “I guess I can warm it up,” he muttered in concession.

“It would taste better.” She pulled out a chair and gracefully sank down into it, looking like joining him for a midnight snack was the most natural thing in the world.

Avoiding her eyes, he placed the bowl, sans plastic, in the microwave and pressed the “Quick Minute” button. Instead of facing her, he stood there and watched his bowl spin around and around, feeling like an awkward teenager who was in trouble with their mother. It was stupid, and Hyne did he know it. It had been ten years. One would think he would be well over it—the past—but every time he saw Matron’s face, he was flooded with guilt.

She seemed to understand because she didn’t say anything the entire minute his food was warming up. Finally, when the timer on the microwave showed one second left, he hastily opened the door and pulled his food out. Left with no other choice, he made his way to the table where Matron was sitting and lowered himself into the chair opposite from her as gingerly as he could; it was difficult with how large his frame was. 

Even as an eighteen-year-old, he’d been tall—six-foot-two, to be precise. In his early twenties, he hadn’t grown much more, topping out at six-foot-three. However, he’d widened considerably. In his youth, he’d technically been more on the lean side, but with more upper body mass than most because of the way he wielded his gunblade. Ten years later, a still-active lifestyle did wonders for his physique, and he now clocked in at roughly 200 pounds of pure muscle. It was nice to not have a beer gut and an addiction to donuts, or whatever, but it made fitting into small chairs a bit . . . troublesome.

He shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable, and Matron rested her folded hands in her lap as she watched him try to adjust. Eventually, he felt settled and moved to dig into his food, only to realize he’d forgotten to grab a utensil. With a knowing smile, she rose from her chair and returned momentarily with a fork in hand.

Muttering his thanks, he started to eat, trying not to feel her eyes on him. He knew that she wasn’t trying to scrutinize him—Matron never scrutinized anyone out of anything other than concern—but he couldn’t help but feel like it was years in the past, when he’d failed in some task she’d given him, however small it might’ve seemed. They sat there in silence, him eating methodically, and her watching him with a tiny smile on her lips.

“I take it you’ve spoken with Selphie.”

The sound of Matron’s voice jerked him out of his self-imposed silence, and he choked on his food. He coughed, hard, trying to dislodge some of the food that had gotten stuck in his throat when he’d inhaled. “W-What?”

“Selphie. She’s been here for quite some time,” Matron noted, smoothing her dress along her thighs. “I take it you two have spoken at least once by now.”

Seifer lowered his hand onto the table, fork still grasped tightly in his hand. A few seconds passed before he said, “You could say that.”

Matron raised her eyes, and when she met Seifer’s gaze, he felt frozen in place. Not because he felt like she was trying to manipulate him, or compel him to do anything. For once, the feeling of being sucked into their depths, into infinite pools of liquid gold, was absent; her eyes stayed brown as he held her gaze. No, he couldn’t look away from the staggering amount of hope and absolute faith that he saw. 

He could count on one hand how many times people had looked at him like that. How was it that, even ten years later, after all they’d been through, that Matron could still look at him that way? It was difficult to feel anything other than completely dumbfounded.

“She’s struggling too, Seifer. She has been since the war. Most people don’t notice, because she’s so very good at keeping up pretenses. But inside, I know that she’s every bit as haunted by the past as you yourself are.”

With a deep sigh, he leaned back in his chair. His appetite was gone now and he laid his fork down on the table, his food forgotten. In a quiet voice, one almost impossible to hear, he murmured, “I know.”

Silence filled the room again. The only sound was the slight hum of the refrigerator behind him. Eventually, Matron sat up and propped her elbows on the table so that she could lean forward to look into his face. He couldn’t ignore her forever, or even a little while, really, so he turned back and locked eyes with her again.

A gentle smile spread across her face. “It isn’t a coincidence that you are here at the same time. I truly believe—” She reached out and placed her hand over his, and her touch was cooler than he’d anticipated. “—that there is no one better to help the both of you than each other.”

Part of him wanted to pull his hand away, but he knew that would likely hurt her feelings, so he left it where it was. A few seconds later, as if she knew exactly what he’d been thinking, Matron pulled away herself and rose from her chair. “You help people more than you think you do, or can, Seifer. Talk to Selphie. The two of you are more similar than either of you realize.”

All he did was nod in response. She brushed past him and paused to lay her hand on his shoulder ever-so-briefly. Then she was gone.

  


_Four days later._

  


“Hyne, I hate the desert,” Seifer muttered under his breath as he wiped the sweat from his brow for the fifth time that morning.

This was the worst year that he’d spent at the orphanage thus far over the entirety of the past decade. Contrary to what he’d initially thought, it had nothing to do with the added company or the amount of kids—which was more than past years, too. No, it had to do with what _little_ Cid had done since Seifer had last been here. 

Ever since he’d arrived, he’d been playing catch-up. First, the garden and the field. Now, it was the roof. He’d only been gone a year. How was it that the roof needed this much work already?

Grumbling under his breath, Seifer pulled the next roof shingle out of the box and laid it in place. Apparently, there had been a larger amount of storms this past year than ever before, and a few of the shingles on the edges of the roof had started to peel up. They shouldn’t have, since Seifer and Cid had installed the shingles themselves when they’d built the second floor, but yet, here he was. 

When he had the hammer raised, ready to pound the nail into place, a voice called out to him from below.

“Hey! Mr. Monster Hunter!”

Seifer halted in mid-swing, before letting out the world’s longest, deepest sigh. He liked children—really, he did. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he lowered the hammer into his lap.

“What, kid?” Seifer shouted back, peering over the edge of the roof at a boy with chestnut brown hair, who looked to be about ten or so. Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t an expert when it came to guessing the age of kids he rarely saw.

“Matron says you should come down and get a drink, because it’s super hot outside today!” the boy said, cupping his hands so that his little voice would carry more.

“What the hell?” Seifer mumbled, confused. 

Yes, it was hot today, but Matron rarely interrupted him because she knew he preferred to work and take breaks at his own pace. In addition to that, since when did these kids find the guts to talk to him? Before this week, they’d all given him a wide—a _very_ wide—berth. In the past decade, they’d only spoken to him maybe three times, and that was usually because they dared one another to approach the “big scary Galbadian murderer”. Never had one of the children approached him out of the goodness of their hearts, and never before had Matron _asked_ one of them to.

Chalking it up to yet another dare, Seifer finally waved his hand at the kid, though it was more of a shooing gesture than anything else. “Okay, whatever, kid. Thanks.”

For some reason, Seifer’s words caused the kid to freeze in place, his eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost. When Seifer peeked over the edge again, the kid scrambled back inside without a backward—or rather, upward—glance.

He chuckled to himself. Definitely another dare. “Little punks,” he said under his breath, though it was without malice.

After he finished nailing the shingle into place, he shifted along the roof to the next one that needed attention. It didn’t take long for him to get back into his prior rhythm. It was strange, the contrast between the things that caused his mind to race and the things that kept it calm. Being idle had always been the number one culprit of his anxiety, but for whatever reason, the tasks that could qualify as “mind-numbing work” kept his thoughts quiet. Maybe it was the rhythm itself that filled the empty space in his brain, the constant _thump-thump-thump_ that prevented his self-doubts and insecurities from creeping in. 

Whatever it was, he’d take it.

A few hours later, he drove the final nail into the final shingle. His back popped uncomfortably when he straightened, and he pressed the heel of his palm into his spine with a grimace. He knew he always referred to himself as old, but Hynedamnit, he wasn’t _actually_ that old. It was far too soon for him to be feeling aches and pains.

Like a crab, he shuffled back towards the ladder that he’d propped against the roof. With his tool crate hanging from his wrist, he climbed back down and hopped off onto the dirt. Seifer jumped when he glanced over and spotted Matron in the doorway; he hadn’t even heard her come out. 

She was holding a tray in her hand and when she saw that he’d seen her, she lifted it slightly. A pitcher and a single glass of lemonade were on the tray. “You’ve been working since before noon, Seifer. You should drink something.”

_Huh, I guess the kid wasn’t playin’ a prank._

Here she was, concerned for his well-being as always. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Nah, I’m okay. I’ve got water back at the shed.” The kids were always in the house at this time of the day for their lessons, which meant loudness and running, and company . . . which meant Selphie.

_Damn it, why does it always seem like I’m runnin’ away?_

A frown flashed across Matron’s face. Clearly, she was not a fan of that suggestion. “I know that Cid wasn’t able to install air-conditioning in the shed just yet . . . You couldn’t possibly wish to return there in this heat.”

“I’ll be fine. Can’t be any worse than outside,” he said as he gestured behind him towards the gardens. He’d been outside in the middle of the day, every single day since he’d arrived.

Matron lowered the tray a bit so that it rested just in front of her hips. “Seifer . . . please come inside. At least take a short break. I worry about you working through the heat and the exposure. We are still in Centra, as much as it seems like we aren’t, thanks to your hard work with the garden and whatnot.”

Inwardly, Seifer groaned. She was using her _tone_ again. He knew that she didn’t do it on purpose to get her way, but it ended up happening anyway because whoever she was using it on knew that she did it out of love and concern. It was a strange cycle that occurred due to a mixture of guilt and mutual affection. 

He let out the quietest curse he could before lifting the crate on his wrist. “Let me drop this off and take a quick shower. I’ll be back in a few.”

Matron’s frown morphed into a genuine smile, and she nodded before turning around and heading back inside. Seifer watched her leave, and when the door shut behind her, he shook his head. 

_Can’t believe she still manages to do that to me_ , he thought wryly as he traipsed back to the shed. 

Without bothering to put the tools away—he just tossed the crate down onto the ground in front of the closet—he quickly showered and dressed in fresh clothes. Twenty minutes later, he headed back up to the main house.

When he let himself in the back door, he could hear Cid’s voice drifting down the hallway from the classroom. It sounded like he was reading the kids a story. All of the reasons that made the old man a terrible headmaster _did_ make him a surprisingly good teacher: he was patient, had a captivating, warm voice, and he had the sort of face that encouraged kids to trust him. 

Seifer chuckled under his breath when he realized that the description of Cid he’d just come up with could easily be used to describe a kidnapper, or a molester. Anyone who knew Cid knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but on first glance . . . well.

The tray of lemonade that Matron had been holding earlier was now resting on the counter. He ambled over to it, hand outstretched, ready to grab a glass, when someone burst through the doorway and smacked right into his back. He stumbled forward with a curse, catching himself on the lip of the counter before turning around to glare at the offender.

He’d expected to see one of the children, but again, he was proven wrong. It was Selphie who bounced back onto her heels with her arm thrown out for balance. When she glanced up, mouth open and ready to apologize, she closed it with a snap when she saw that it was Seifer she’d run into.

“Oh . . . it’s you. Heh, sorry, I was . . . kind of in a rush,” she admitted with an awkward half-grimace, half-maniacal grin.

“I noticed,” Seifer deadpanned, turning around to grab the glass of lemonade that he’d come in for.

“Wait!”

He paused, his fingers just barely touching the glass; the condensation from the ice just barely dampened his fingertips. With an annoyed sigh, he faced her again. “What?”

“I was going to take the tray into the classroom. You know, for the kids? They get thirsty. If you take one, I won’t have enough glasses for everyone else.”

_What the hell . . . is she serious?_ He stood there, blinking down at her in bewilderment. Slowly, because he still couldn’t believe that was the excuse she’d settled on, he raised his arm and pointed at the curio across the room. “Did you not see the extra glasses over there?”

Selphie waved her hand through the air, dismissing his response. “I’m not talking about the _glasses_ , but like, the actual _lemonade._ If you take that glass, there’s less in the pitcher for the kids! You wouldn’t steal lemonade from a kid, would you?”

She clasped her hands behind her back and stared up at him with hopeful doe eyes. Instead of responding, Seifer crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the sweat on the back of his neck and along his spine cool to an uncomfortable tackiness. When she didn’t stop, just continued to bat her eyelashes at him, he dropped his arms with a sharp exhale.

“Take your damn lemonade.”

“Wow, I didn’t think puppy eyes would work on you,” she commented, moving around him to grab the tray. It didn’t slip his notice that she kept enough space between them so that nothing on their bodies touched.

“It didn’t. I just don’t want to deal with it.” He turned away from her and made his way to the refrigerator, hoping there’d be water in there. At this point, every swallow he took felt like sandpaper grating against the soft tissue of his throat, and he’d take _anything_ that was available. 

“Ha ha! You mean, deal with _me_?”

Seifer stuck his head into the fridge, both to find a drink, and to imply that he was one-hundred percent finished with the conversation. He heard Selphie laugh before her light footsteps skipped out of the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Again, he wasn’t running away—he’d talked to her, hadn’t he?—but there was something about her that had always made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He never knew what to say to her.

He found a pitcher of water towards the back of the fridge, and after pulling it out, he poured himself a glass. Feeling slightly claustrophobic in the kitchen, he wandered out into the hall with his glass of water in hand. A landscape painting on the wall caught his eye, and he ambled over to it. It was a painting of rolling waves, though whether it was the beach down the hill or the beach in Balamb, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

As he was studying the strokes, an airy voice filtered down the hall, and he realized Selphie was speaking to the kids now instead of Cid. The last time he’d heard her teaching a lesson was a few days ago when he’d mistakenly barged into the room and interrupted her. Curious, he quietly made his way to the classroom and peered around the doorframe.

Selphie’s back was facing him, and she was holding out a small chalkboard in front of the children. Every time she spoke, she wrote something new on the board, and the kids would nod, eyes wide and eager for knowledge. 

Seifer stood in the doorway, watching her as she taught. It seemed like her boundless energy and optimism wasn’t excluded from her teaching style, because every time she made a point, she’d wave her arms in the air for emphasis, voice rife with drama. Finally, when she finished whatever lesson she’d been working on, she handed the chalkboard to someone sitting beside her. 

His gaze followed her motions, and he did a double-take when he realized that the person was neither Matron nor Cid. _Who the hell . . . ?_

Selphie clapped her hands—pulling his attention back to her—and sprang to her feet. “Okay! That’s it for today, guys! Go play!”

All of the kids bounced up and instantly, the noise level in the room increased tenfold. Seifer cringed and slid back from the doorway to make room for the herd, and they all sprinted past him without even glancing in his direction—much to his surprise. The kid from earlier must’ve spread the word that, no, he wasn’t a monster-human hybrid or a murderer, just a guy who fixed the roof from time to time. Such evidence would definitely lower his mysterious quality, he thought to himself with a scoff.

Without warning, Selphie about-faced and darted into the hall after the kids. When she saw him standing there, she pulled back abruptly, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Woah! Who just creeps in the doorway like that?” she exclaimed.

“I wasn’t creeping,” Seifer said with a shrug. “I was watching your lesson, and then you ran out into the hall. Maybe you should think about slowing down once in awhile, since you keep running into people.”

“Ha ha . . .” She trailed off, glancing away before looking up at him again. “Nah, what’s the point?”

Confused, he raised an eyebrow at her. “The point of what? Slowing down?”

She waved her hand in the air and brushed past him—he assumed she was heading outside to supervise the kids during their recess. He turned, watching her disappear out the door before facing forward again. To his surprise, there was someone standing right in front of him. 

The guy had a similar haircut to Squall’s—or at least, what it had looked like ten years ago when he’d last seen his former rival—but it was a tad bit shorter. It wasn’t often that he met people who were close to his height, and he pegged the guy at around 5’10” or so. 

“Hey Seifer,” the man said with a small wave of acknowledgment. 

Seifer furrowed his brows at the guy, and he cringed ever-so-slightly at the hostility in Seifer’s eyes. Intentional or not, people always seemed to think he was being hostile towards them. The way the man had said his name indicated a level of familiarity that, unfortunately, Seifer didn’t reciprocate. He racked his brain, trying to remember whether he’d met him before in passing. A few seconds passed and nothing popped up.

“Do I know you?” Seifer asked, leaning against the stone wall.

The man’s face fell. “I’m Nida! We . . . we went to Garden together . . .?”

_Garden? Nida? What the fuck kind of name is Nida?_

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Seifer just shook his head. “Sorry, not ringing a bell. Don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, we—” Nida broke off and let out the tiniest of sighs. “Never mind. I, uh, I’m glad you’ve been doing well and all. It was nice to see you,” he added, before following Selphie outside. 

“Sure,” Seifer mumbled, hunching his shoulders so that Nida wouldn’t bump into him. 

Once Nida walked out the door, Seifer turned around and stared out the open doorway at the view. How was it that Selphie always seemed to find time to be down at the beach? With that thought, he shook his head and headed outside as well. Instead of following the group down to the beach, though, he hung a left and walked back to his shed. The second he opened the door, a wall of heat swept forward and slapped him in the face. He reeled back, hand still on the doorknob.

“Holy Hyne!” Was the shed always this hot in the middle of the day? Granted, he’d never been in it in the afternoon except for to take quick showers, but there was no way in hell he was going to sit inside in the sweltering heat now. No wonder Matron had wanted him to follow her into the main house so badly.

Unfortunately, he’d done all he could as far as tasks went. The garden and the grass were finally groomed back to his high standards, and the roof was now repaired. Cid hadn’t mentioned anything else that needed his attention, so what the hell was he supposed to do with the rest of the day?

A vague memory of Cid and Matron mentioning that they had a small library popped into his thoughts, and he trekked back up to the orphanage with the intent of asking them about it. At least it was cool inside the main house.

Once he was back inside, he traipsed down the hall, wondering where exactly the library was. He’d never actually seen it, and he’d also never asked Cid or Matron about it. A quick glance at his phone revealed that it was just after two, and he knew that Matron often took naps throughout the afternoon to bypass the heat. He didn’t want to wake her for such a stupid question, so he shrugged and figured he’d explore, find it on his own.

The kitchen was in the first room to his left, and he knew there were no other exits there. The next door led to the classroom, which was just a simple square room, not nearly large enough for a tacked-on library. That left two other rooms: the new, larger room that the kids slept in, and the room that used to belong to the original orphanage gang, all those years ago.

Obviously it wasn’t the bedroom, so he made his way through the main room to their old space on the opposite side of the orphanage. Lo and behold, he’d found the library. As soon as he opened the door, the musty smell of old parchment and leather swirled into his nostrils. He took a deep breath, reveling in the familiar, but long since enjoyed, scent. 

Contrary to what people often thought about him, he liked to read. Fantasy novels were his favorite, but he was always game for any sort of well-written story with a good plot, and well-developed characters. He enjoyed being sucked into another universe, seeing the world from a different person’s eyes. It was reading boring, dry textbooks that he’d never enjoyed—hence why he always failed the written exam. He didn’t have the patience for poring over definitions and examples, but creative writing was something else entirely. It amazed him that people found the words and inspiration to create something so captivating and real out of absolutely nothing.

Slowly, he paced around the room, inspecting the spines of the volumes for something that piqued his interest. When he reached the last bookshelf, just beside the window that overlooked the beach, he read the title of a book that made him freeze in place. 

_. . . The Sorceress’ Knight . . ._

With arms that felt like lead, he pulled the volume from the shelf and let it fall open in his hand. It had been years since he’d first read this book—twenty-two, to be precise—and he never thought he’d see it again, let alone hold it again. In fact, he was sure it was the exact same copy that had inspired his dreams as a kid, in this very house. 

When the book had been adapted into film, he’d watched that thing nearly every single night for years. It had been his favorite movie for a long, long time—no matter how ridiculous people found the main character. 

_Aeons ago, powerful beings called ‘sorceresses’ held power in the world. Descendents of Hyne, these daughters of magic often fought side-by-side with their faithful ‘knights’, sworn to loyalty by ties stronger than any in existence thus far . . ._

Seifer ambled over to the leather armchair below the window and sank down into it with his nose still buried in the volume. Though it had been years since he’d last read these words, it all came rushing back to him as if only days had gone by. Within minutes, he was fully immersed in the world of sorceresses, wars, and magical abilities beyond any modern, normal human being’s comprehension.

Memories came hand-in-hand with the imagery in the book, and he felt his fist clenching involuntarily, over and over as he read. He remembered the burning fire that coursed through his veins when Matron had been possessed by Ultimecia. Such power, such control that he’d never had before in his life, and never again since those days. He remembered the sensation of rising above his peers and the rest of the world, of looking out on the crowd in Deling; every single person there had looked up at him with awe and reverence in their eyes. He had been glory personified.

Now what was he? _Who_ was he? Nothing more than a glorified handyman, a loose end that was kicked out to the curb, never to be claimed by anyone after all was said and done. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d risen to his feet, fingers holding onto the volume so tightly that his knuckles were white. A light breeze drifted in through the open window, ruffling the sheer curtains that flanked the view, and the ends of Seifer’s hair. He turned away from the outside, hunching over the novel in his hands, his brows drawn so tight that the muscles in his forehead were starting to ache—not that he noticed.

The sound of soft footsteps entering the room barely registered in his mind. When slender fingers came into his view, blocking the words on the page, he reeled back, pulling away from the intruder to his thoughts. 

Matron stood before him, a concerned expression on her face. Gently, she pulled the book from his hands. All of the fierce energy that had been boiling under his skin prior to her appearance dissipated into nothing, as if it had never existed. He let go of the novel, his gaze dropping to the floor as his hands fell to his sides.

“Are you all right, Seifer?” Matron whispered.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, turning away to run his hands through his hair. A shaky exhale escaped him as he looked out the window, realizing it was just before sundown.

Matron didn’t speak again, but instead, laid her hand on his forearm. Reluctantly, he faced her again. Her expression sent a sharp spike of pain lancing through him. He didn’t deserve her concern or her love. He didn’t deserve anything but what he’d gotten thus far: loneliness, self-apathy, worthlessness.

When Seifer looked away once more, in a quiet voice, Matron asked, “I was wondering if . . . you could do me a favor?”

Unable to form any more words, he simply nodded. She held out her hand and when he looked down, he saw that she was holding out a small, white, squeezable bottle. Confused, he glanced back up.

“Could you take this to Selphie? She’s been down on the beach since earlier this afternoon, and I know how terrible she is at remembering to put sunblock on. This much exposure isn’t good for her skin.”

“Uh . . .” He trailed off, before reaching up and taking the bottle from her. “Sure.”

She offered a gentle, knowing smile. “Thank you, Seifer.”

Again, he nodded, before stepping around her and heading down the hall for the back patio. Listlessly, he trekked down the hill towards the beach, and the sound of the waves cresting on the shore increased as he got closer. 

Up ahead, Selphie was lying on a towel that she’d spread out on top of the sand, watching the kids as they splashed about in the water. She was wearing an oversized sunhat which, in his opinion, looked downright ridiculous. It was nearly triple the size of her head. He noted that there were no shoes resting beside the towel. Offhand, he wondered whether she’d left them at the house out of convenience, or because of what had happened the last time she’d brought shoes with her.

Did people really feel that uncomfortable with him doing favors for them?

As he trudged through the sand, he had to work extra hard to lift his feet with each subsequent step. He still had a ways to go to reach Selphie, so with a grunt, he leaned down and unlaced his boots. After stuffing his socks into them, he placed them against the cliff face and continued on down the beach, now barefoot. Sand was strangely effective in masking the sound of his footsteps. By the time he reached Selphie, she still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey,” he called out, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his pants.

She jumped a little before glancing over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were blocked by bug-eye sunglasses, but when she realized it was Seifer standing behind her, she tilted them down to stare up at him. 

“Well, well, well! Look who decided to join us! Come to swim with some sharks?” Her lips quirked upwards in a teasing smile.

He cringed. “No. Matron told me to come down and give this to you.” He tossed the sunblock onto the sand at her side, before turning away to head back up the beach.

“Hey, wait!”

Why did it seem like she was always asking him to wait? He sighed as he faced her again. “What?” he drew out, making sure his exasperation was audible in every letter of the word.

“You didn’t really think I’d let the kids swim if there were sharks, did you? Geez! You really can join us, you know.”

“I’m good,” he replied, turning away again.

“Oh, maybe you’re afraid of the water. Totally get that. It is pretty freaky, being bottomless and all. But the kids don’t seem to mind it . . .” She trailed off, and Seifer halted in mid-step, his hackles raised.

_What the hell is she getting at?_

Slowly, he turned back around. When their eyes met, he saw the sparkle in hers and knew she’d baited him. There was no way he could walk away now, not after she’d insinuated that he was some sort of . . . of pussy that was afraid of getting into the water. Not when there were _eight-year-olds_ in there, and he wasn’t.

“Maybe a swim _does_ sound nice.” 

“Oh yeah? You, uh, gonna swim in your cargo pants and your work shirt?”

“ . . . No.”

“Do you even own a swimsuit?”

“ . . . No.” 

Selphie waggled her eyebrows at him before lifting her sunglasses back into place. Every inch of her expression reeked of success, and it set his nerves on end. From between clenched teeth, he said, “I can just . . . swim in . . . ugh!” 

He was a twenty-eight-year-old man, for Hyne’s sake. Why did he feel so . . . so _dirty_ saying the word “underwear” to Selphie, of all people?

When she turned back to him, she pointedly looked down at the lower half of his body before looking back up at his face. “Your—” She cupped her hand around her mouth, and in a dramatic whisper, finished, “—underwear?”

_Fuck. Fuck!_ His face felt flushed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed like a teenager. “Yeah. That,” he murmured, looking away as he scratched at his stubble.

After all that, after _all_ of her teasing, all she did in response was shrug. “Yeah, that’s not that weird. People do it all the time. Go for it.”

_What the actual—_. He broke off his own thought with a groan. “Why aren’t _you_ in the water?”

“I was before. The sun got too hot on my shoulders. Why, do you need moral support?” she quipped.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.” He moved past her and pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it onto the sand. He tucked his fingers under his waistband, but right before he moved to push his pants down, he hesitated. Was he seriously feeling awkward about undressing in front of Selphie? Not the kids, but _Selphie_?

With a mental “fuck it”, he went ahead and did it anyway, kicking his pants aside once he was done. To his surprise, she stayed quiet behind him. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t find the guts to look back at her to find out why. He’d chosen to commit to this, to prove her lighthearted ribbing wrong, so by Hyne, he’d get in that damned water.

After a quick roll of his shoulders, he beelined for the shore. All of the kids turned to stare at him when he dove in, but by the time he surfaced, they’d already gone back to playing with . . . what was his name again?

Seifer hadn’t even realized he’d been in the water the entire time. While he was watching the kids soak the other guy, nearly swamping the poor soul, he heard another loud splash to his side. The aftermath of whatever had caused the splash splattered against his cheek, and he turned back towards the beach.

Selphie was no longer on her towel; she’d apparently jumped into the water after him—a cannonball, judging by the volume of water that had hit him. Oddly enough, she never surfaced, and Seifer paddled around in a circle, keeping an eye out for a brown blob. She wasn’t stupid, and he couldn’t have imagined that she’d jump into the ocean without knowing how to swim. Plus, she’d said earlier that she had been in the water. So where was she?

Something tickled the back of his calf, and he kicked his foot, trying to get away from it. Seaweed wasn’t uncommon this close to the shore. When it brushed against his other leg, he mumbled, “What the hell?”

Out of nowhere, his leg was yanked down and he sputtered as he slipped beneath the surface. Frantically, he pushed himself back up and gasped for air, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “Fuckin’ Hyne!” he exclaimed.

One of the kids gasped at his language, but it was quickly drowned out by peals of laughter coming from the beach, slightly off in the distance. He quickly spun around and saw Selphie, bowed over, pounding her fist against the sand. When he realized what had happened, and the rest of the kids started laughing, he glared in her direction. 

With quick strokes, he swam back to the beach. As soon as his feet touched the bottom, he stomped over to Selphie. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry! I just . . . you really thought . . . there were sharks . . . didn’t you?” Her words were interspersed with bouts of hysterical laughter. 

He stood there with his hands on his hips as he seethed, his chest heaving with deep breaths. Eventually, he bent over and swiped his clothing from the sand before stalking up the hill and back towards the house. He didn’t even bother to grab his shoes.

When he got back to the shed, he threw open the door and tossed his clothes onto the couch. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so angry. Yes, she’d made him look like an absolute fool, but . . . there was a small part of him, deep, deep down, that questioned whether he’d actually been having _fun._

When was the last time he’d felt that way?

The sun was now setting, and the interior of the shed was bathed in shades of auburn and ochre. It was still warm inside, but it was nowhere near as stifling as it had been earlier. He was still pacing around the room with his hands on his hips when Selphie’s voice called out to him from the doorway. As he was turning around, something thudded against the wood floors.

“Hey, you left these.”

He glanced down at the object she’d tossed to the ground—his boots that he’d left behind in his haste. Instead of walking over to pick them up, he looked back up at her. Without an invitation, she sauntered into the shed, glancing around. “Wow, Cid really outdid himself, huh?”

“I guess.”

“I dunno, this is a pretty nice shack.”

“It sounds so much shittier when you call it that,” he noted.

“Well, I mean, it _is_ technically a shack . . .”

He narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged unapologetically before spinning around. “Anyway, just wanted to bring you your shoes. The tide probably would’ve washed them away overnight, and you know, sharks eat anything and everything. I was saving them a suuuper bad stomachache by bringing them to you.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” _Is she being serious?_

She stepped over his boots, before about-facing again. “Hey, when’s your birthday?”

_What? How the hell does anyone have a conversation with her? She’s all over the place._ “In December. Why?”

“Oh, cool. Mine’s in a week.”

“O . . . kay . . .?” Really, it made sense. For someone who had such a bubbly personality, how could she not be born in the summer, of all seasons? Why she was telling him, though, he had no clue.

“So, technically, we’re the same age for like, a few months!”

“If your birthday is in July and mine is in December, then, no. We’re not the same age.”

“But for six months we are.”

“ I’m . . . still gonna go with a no on that one.”

“Man, has anyone ever told you you’re a party pooper?” she asked as she crossed over the threshold. 

Under his breath, he mumbled, “Yeah, a lot of people, actually.”

As planned, she didn’t hear what he’d said, but much to his surprise, she still turned back around. “If I throw a birthday party, will you come?” 

He lowered his brows. “Who the fuck throws a birthday party for _themselves_?”

“Cool people.”

“When is this supposed birthday party?” he asked, finally trekking across the room to pick up his boots.

“Duh, _on_ my birthday. When else would it be?”

“Do I look like I know when your birthday is?” Even if he didn’t outright ask her, he knew she’d tell him anyway. As he waited for her response, he set his boots against the wall beside the tool closet.

“It’s the 16th. So now you’re not ever gonna forget it, right?” She pointed at him with her eyes squinted.

“Sure, sure. And no, I’m leaving in the next few days.” 

The room stayed silent, but he didn’t turn around to look at her so he wasn’t sure whether she was even still standing there. As he was taking mental inventory of the tools on the wall, he heard her scuffling back into the shed again. Surprised, he looked over at the doorway where she was now standing.

In a quiet voice, with her hands behind her back, she asked, “You’re leaving that soon?”

“Why the hell else would I stick around? The garden’s fine now, the grass is trimmed, the roof is fixed. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Well . . . I just thought—” She broke off and glanced down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “I don’t know what I thought, heh.”

Unsure of what to say, and unsure of what to think about her reaction, Seifer crossed his arms over his bare chest as he stared at her. Water dripped from the hem of his boxer shorts and pooled between his toes. The entire time he was looking at her, she pointedly avoided his gaze. Eventually, she pivoted on her heel and skipped back outside.

She faced him again with her arms spread out wide. “Sucks to be you, then! You’re gonna miss the best party in the entire existence of the world!”

“Yeah? I’ll bet,” he deadpanned.

Selphie’s face broke out into a lopsided grin, and after she spun around once, she tucked her hands behind her back again. “You know . . . even though I—Our first night was rough, and that sucked. But . . . it was good to see you again . . . Seifer.”

Every time he heard his name coming out of her mouth, he felt . . . like the absolute worst sack of shit. He knew what he’d done to her, to Trabia, and even if he’d forgotten, she’d reminded him in the most effective of ways that first night. Somehow, his name sounded wrong coming out of her mouth. Like she was too pure and good to say something as dirty as his name.

Without meeting her eyes, he rubbed the back of his neck as he focused on the grains in the wood flooring. “Yeah, same.”

She chuckled. “I know you don’t mean that, but thanks for saying it anyway. I guess I’ll see you around!” And she was gone before he had a chance to reply.

He looked up sharply, watching her as she walked back up to the main house, her gigantic sunhat still perched on her head. It had been a strange experience, seeing her here at the orphanage, of all places. For years now he’d been coming back, and not once had he seen anyone from the original gang. Why, this year, did he happen to be here at the same time as _Selphie_?

As he stood there, the only thing he could think about was the look on her face when he’d said he would be leaving soon. Such utter disappointment, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of sadness? It was so terribly out of place on her face, that he couldn’t stop trying to figure out _why_ she’d looked so upset. 

His past had taught him that coincidences didn’t exist. He was here, and she was here, and it _couldn’t_ have been because of luck. But for the life of him, no matter how long he stood there and tried to dissect it in his mind, he couldn’t figure out the reason why everything had turned out the way that it had.


	7. Chapter 7

She imagined the sky filled with fireworks, the kind that Garden was always partial to. Giant explosions of color--was there anything more Selphie than that? Esthar had plenty of fireworks too, but this was the first year in a long while she was going without them. It was actually a little relieving how much it didn’t bother her. She’d needed fireworks before, needed the sound to drown out everything. But now she was content in the quiet, with only the shore providing the background music to her birthday celebration.

Matron and Cid had been making preparations all day long, insisting she take the day to rest, and eventually they’d convinced her. Though, in secret, she had done one little thing. In her defense, she had made it before the sixteenth, so Matron and Cid’s words didn’t apply. It was a silly banner, made using the children’s art supplies when they were outside listening to one of Cid’s stories. It was covered in handprints of paint, all from her tiny little hand. She still had some paint remnants on that hand that would take a little more vigor to get completely off.

As Matron was making some lemonade with the home-grown lemons and Cid was frosting the cake, Selphie sneaked by, banner in tow. They’d set up chairs and tables out near the cliff, ready to start the party at sunset when the temperature started going down. No one was out there now, so Selphie took the moment to tie her banner from one freestanding column to another, right above the table, then jumped back a few feet to examine her work.

“Nice,” she said with a satisfied smile.

The banner rippled slightly in the breeze, making the metallic paint of the words “Happy Birthday to Me!!!!!!!!!!!!” almost seem alive.

It was a tradition from back when she’d gone to Trabia Garden. The first year she’d done it as a strange form of vengeance against another student, but then it carried on from there. She’d always had strange ways of exacting revenge. And her latest ideas, the ones concerning Seifer, had probably been the weirdest yet.

She’d always had a plan in the past, but with Seifer, she had no idea what she was doing. One minute it was giving him a cold shoulder, and others it was her acting outrageously cheerful, and then there were times like on the beach when she’d just been plain messing with him. She was all over the place and had no idea how to control herself. All her feelings and ideas she’d collected over the years had been useless once she’d finally seen Seifer again. He wasn’t evil and power-crazy and delusional like he’d been back in the war, but rather just a big, walking muscle that was awkward at communication and possessed the pride complex of a teenager.

How was someone supposed to be willfully mean towards _that_?

He hadn’t planned on staying for her party, but Matron always had a way with words and she had convinced him to stay until tonight.

After the whole shark business on the beach, Seifer and Selphie had stayed relatively far apart, only seeing each other in passing. She had no idea what to say to him after that whole thing once she’d had time to think back on it and cringe about how utterly weird she’d been. The things she said, as few as they were, were always accompanied by her own awkward laughter and mostly incoherent babbling.

Until last night, when they’d both ended up on the beach after the sun had gone down. He’d been there first, and she’d almost escaped before she remembered that she’d been the one to make them both promise not to run away anymore. So she’d plopped down right next to him, a half a bottle of brandy in the sand between them she was secretly grateful not to drink alone.

They’d said little, but it had been enough.

The air had been warm, and she was in her pajamas of a t-shirt and shorts, hair down, makeup off; and he’d been in a tanktop and shorts, his short hair all ruffled and messy from his work that day, a few dirt stains on his face. It was nice. They had both just been people then, resting after a long day and without any pretense at all.

“Do you like brandy?” Selphie asked. “It’s never been my favorite, but I mean, booze is booze, right?”

She swore she saw the corner of his mouth lift up a little, but it was Seifer, so she could have been completely imagining it. 

“Ahhh, boooOOOOooooooOOOOOooooze!” she sang and then lay down in the sand. “No booze at the party, though. Not with the kids around. It’ll be my first alcohol-free birthday party since . . .” She counted on her fingers and then shouted, “Since I was twelve!”

“Trabia Garden must party hard,” Seifer muttered.

Selphie snapped back up to a sitting position. “We did, actually. Trabia may be the smallest garden, but we’re definitely the fiercest.”

Seifer smirked. “If you’re any indication.”

Selphie’s lips parted and she stared at Seifer’s profile--he was gazing dramatically out over the ocean. Had he just given her a compliment? A Seifer compliment was almost worth ten normal compliments. She felt a strange satisfaction and confusion in her stomach, and the blue lump in her stomach grew in size. It was almost as big as the grey one now, the one that had been sitting unchanged for a few weeks. 

“Thanks,” she said quietly, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

With an irritated sigh, Seifer snatched the brandy bottle, unscrewed the lid, and took a giant swig. 

Selphie just pressed the bottom half of her face into her knees to hide her smile.

They sat there in silence several more minutes, passing the bottle between them until it was empty, Selphie finishing it off. Immediately after, she fell into a long succession of painful hiccuping until Seifer had lifted his hand and cast a Cure on her. Without hiccups to worry about, she saw him pocketing something right after.

“Hey!” she said, pointing. “What was that?”

Seifer cringed a little, but reached back in and pulled out a round blue stone. It was a summoning stone, and one Selphie knew well. The last time she’d seen it, Rinoa had cast it off into the ocean, bidding farewell to her good friend--

“Leviathan,” Selphie said in surprise.

“Found it on a fishing boat. I thought it might come in handy,” he said with a shrug. “You know, in an emergency.”

Selphie giggled. “Like a hiccup attack?”

Seifer put the stone back and looked away quickly. It wasn’t quick enough, though, because Selphie saw it this time: a real smile. A small one, of course, but a smile nonetheless. Selphie had made Seifer smile, and she also felt strangely honored to be important enough for a GF emergency.

“I still have mine,” Selphie said. “Not junctioned, but same reason. I haven’t had to use them, yet, though. Not in . . .” She held up her hands and counted on her fingers, even though she already knew how long it had been. But seeing it on her fingers, all ten of them, glaring up at her, it was different. Like those ten years hadn’t been so long until then. Ten years since she’d seen her friends in person.

 _Ten . . . years?_ She sighed, her hand fell into the sand, and she looked up at the twinkling stars.

 _Looking back, even knowing all I’ve done, it doesn’t really_ feel _like I’ve done much at all. It was all busy work. Except for the space station, but life took me away before I could do anything with that._

In the corner of her eye, she saw Seifer get to his feet and put his hands in his pants pockets. He too was looking at the stars.

“You leaving?” she asked.

“Try not to sound too sad about it,” Seifer said.

Selphie made a face. “I’m not _sad_ about it. I was just asking, is all!”

Seifer smirked again. “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, Selphie. Happy birthday.” With that, he turned and began making his way back to the orphanage.

Selphie looked after him a moment and then checked her phone: 12:01 AM, it read. She turned off the screen and held the phone close to her chest. Her eyes found the stars again. _Leviathan, huh? Reminds me of my dorm at Garden. Huh, I wonder if that poster is still there?_ With a smile, she thought, _Everything’s been way coincidental the past few weeks, hasn’t it? Is the universe trying to tell me something?_

Not long after that, she’d gone to bed herself. After a whole day of doing practically nothing, she was ready for the party to kick in to gear. She took a seat at one of the tables and put her hand behind her head, breathing in the fresh, salty air.

Nida was the first to show up, a box under his arm. He glanced around at the empty party space, then approached Selphie. He stopped in front of her and held out the box. “Hey, Selphie. I’m not sure when we’re supposed to open presents, but it’ll be less embarrassing with no one else around. So this is for you.” He moved it closer.

“You made a present for me?” Selphie asked, blinking a few times. She took the box from him and carefully tore the paper off, revealing a basic cardboard box. Once she’d ripped open the two flaps, she came face-to-face with a stone carving. Carefully, she pulled it out to see it in better light.

The statue was made of marble, and perfectly smooth.

“It’s a chocobo,” Nida said. “I know how much you like them. I’ve been working on it since January. I’m not really a sculptor, but--”

“Oh. Right. Well,” she said, setting the statue back in the box, “thanks, Nida. It’s . . . super thoughtful.”

Nida rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. “Oh, it was no trouble at all! I hope you like it.”

Just then, Cid and Matron came out of the house, both of their arms full of party food. A few of the older children followed them out, helping to carry even more food.

“Whoa!!” Selphie exclaimed. She set the box down on the chair beside her and ran over to help the others, particularly Matron. “You guys made _so_ much food!!”

“When you’re making food to feed a lot of children and Selphie Tilmitt, there’s no other option!” Cid said proudly, holding the tray of cold cuts closer so Selphie could see.

“Wow!” she sighed. “That all looks delicious. I’m starved!”

Matron gave a little laugh. “We’re almost ready to start. I have to get the rest of the children.”

Selphie set the tray of lemonade on one of the long tables and then clasp her hands behind her back. “And Seifer!” She held up a finger. “Actually, I’ll probably have the best luck dragging him over here. I just know he’ll find some excuse not to come!” As a whispered aside to just Cid and Matron, she added, “What with his whole anti-children thing.”

“Anti-children?” Cid said loudly, defeating the purpose of the “whispered aside.” “Nonsense.”

“He’s just nervous around them,” Matron said gently. “He can be very sweet with them. Last year, one of the little ones who had just learned to walk fell, and he picked her up and gave her a pep talk. He’ll never admit to it,” she said with a laugh, “but I saw it.” She set her other tray down on the table, put her hands in front of her, and bowed to Selphie. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Can you go fetch him, Selphie?”

Selphie did the SeeD salute and bounced off around the house to where Seifer’s tool shack sat. The lights were on, so she skipped confidently over to the door. Clearing her throat and adjusting her skirt, she lifted her hand and rapped her knuckles lightly on the door. She heard some shuffling from inside, and lowered her hand just before the door opened.

For some reason, when he recognized her, he gave a little surprised start, but then opened the door all the way. “What is it?”

“Excuse me, what? My party, obviously!” Selphie said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m here to make sure you actually come.”

“Didn’t I already say I would?” Seifer asked.

“Just making sure you didn’t wiggle your way out of it,” she said. “You ready? It won’t start until everybody’s there, and everyone’s there but you! Even Nida’s there.”

“Who the fuck is Nida?” Seifer said with a frown.

But Selphie just waved it off. “For real, though. Are you ready? I’m not leaving till you’re ready!”

Seifer glanced back a moment and then suddenly moved forward, nearly crashing into Selphie as he closed the door behind him. He stared down at her from _way up there_ and all Selphie could do was realize how close she was to Seifer Almasy and that they were just standing there awkwardly, looking at each other.

“Ha ha,” she laughed nervously and took one giant step back from him. “Is that a yes?”

Seifer gestured towards the party and folded his arms. “After you.”

“Uh uh, mister,” Selphie said, snapping back from the moment. “After _you_. How else am I supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t bolt for the meadow or something?”

Seifer gave her an exasperated look, rolled his eyes, but started forward, and once he’d passed, Selphie took up position behind him. She looked at the back of his head as they walked, and she knew he must be wondering why the hell she was so adamant about _him_ being at her birthday party. In all honesty, she wasn’t quite sure why she was either. Maybe it was to help normalize things between them, to see them just as the two kids who used to go to this very orphanage rather than the enemies they were in the war. Maybe it was so he knew that she didn’t hate him anymore.

Because she didn’t, at all. As they walked, she finally realized that. She hated the Seifer from the war, and over the years, she’d hated the idea of Seifer, but this man who walked in front of her was different from both of those things.

Once the party came into view, she forgot about it. Instead, she ran ahead of Seifer to greet the rest of the kids who’d finally joined in. All the lamps and lanterns were lit, casting a pink and yellow glow over the entire party space. Most of the kids were already lined up at the tables, piling food onto their paper plates. Cid and Matron were examining the banner, Cid scratching his chin, and Matron smiling with her arm around Cid’s waist.

“Happy birthday, Sephy!” the kids cried out, and Selphie kissed each of them on the head.

Then she traipsed over to Cid and Matron. “Nice banner, huh?”

Cid chuckled. “It surely is.”

“Happy birthday, Selphie,” Matron said, reaching out to lightly touch her arm.

Selphie gave Matron a warm smile and then gave a deep bow. “Thank you, Matron. Cid.” When she came up, her eyes were watering, but she quickly wiped them dry and bounced away towards the buffet table to also start stuffing her face.

In the end, she sat down at a table, three plates full of food for her to destroy. But, before she took the first bite, she noticed Seifer standing on the edge of the party space, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground.

_Party pooper._

One of the tiny kids wandered over to him, and Selphie leaned her elbows on the table, watching intently, wondering if it was the same kid from last year, one year older now. She stopped in front of Seifer, holding a red cup in her hand. Seifer’s head moved the tiniest bit, and Selphie could just imagine him staring down at the girl with an unintentionally intense and scrutinizing gaze. But the kid was unfazed, and she tugged on his pant leg before lifting the cup towards him.

Seifer’s lips moved, and Selphie desperately wanted to know what he was saying. The little girl just responded by pulling his pant leg again, and then slowly, Seifer crouched down so he was closer to eye level with her. He was talking some more, but he was too far away for Selphie to see his exact expression. Still, she watched with focused, slightly squinted eyes.

Nida sat down at the table. “This food looks great, doesn’t it?” He tapped Selphie on the shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Without looking at him, Selphie reached out, grabbed his collar, and pulled him closer. Then she pointed at Seifer and the kid. “Look! Look!”

The kid and Seifer were still talking, and he was shaking his head and . . . _Is he_ laughing _?!_ “No way!” she breathed.

But then he threw his head back and he was _clearly_ laughing. Of course Selphie had heard him laugh before. Before the war and during it too, both completely different kinds of laughter. Selphie wondered what this laughter sounded like. The girl was smiling, so it must have been nice to listen to.

She heard choking noises beside her, and after a moment, she looked over and noticed she was pulling on Nida’s collar too hard. She released him and he fell down onto the table.

Returning her attention back to Seifer and the girl, she looked just in time to see Seifer finally take the offered cup and lift it in thanks. Then he put his hand on top of her head, she seemed to giggle, and then he got to his feet. Hurriedly, the girl returned back to the other children, and Seifer was left alone in the boonies, red cup of something in hand. He was staring into it.

Selphie leaned her chin on her hands and smiled.

“All right, all right!” Cid called to everyone. Once the volume was just low enough, he said, “Now, being in charge of the music, I’d first like to take the moment to talk a little about it.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “As everyone at Garden knew and knows, when I was headmaster, every morning during announcements I would play a little old time music--yes, yes, the kind my _grandfather_ grew up with. But there’s something about it that just makes you want to dance and sing and all those wonderful things!” He put his arms in the air, like he was making a grand speech to a huge audience.

Matron whispered something in his ear, and he cleared his throat and continued. “It’s also the music I used to play here, twentyish years ago. So, after years of missing on it, Selphie,” he said, now looking at her. “This music tonight is dedicated to you. I hope it brings you the happiness you have always and will always deserve.”

Selphie’s cheeks warmed and she hid her face a little.

Cid moved to the stereo and hit the on switch. The place was suddenly alive with the voices of the old crooners backed by brass. Cid started shuffling his feet in the dirt, making his way back to Matron. He offered his hand, hips bouncing, and blushing, she took it. The two took to the floor, the children cheering them on.

She hadn’t heard this music since the war. And then, she hadn’t been at Balamb Garden very long. This music made her think of being young again, in the orphanage. Irvine had always asked her to dance, and even then, Selphie had to admit they cut quite a rug. Zell had always preferred to dance alone and in his own style which Selphie had a hard time describing. There was a lot of arm movement and head jerking and the occasional grunting that probably wasn’t intentional. It was a dance that didn’t seem to fit to the music, but Zell somehow had made it work.

But Cid was right. The music _did_ make her happy. It reminded her of all the good times she’d had in this place when she was younger. Her feet tapped on the ground in rhythm with the music, and even her lips mouthed along with the words she was sure had been long forgotten. Memory was funny like that.

Selphie hurried and scarfed down her food and then got to her feet, determined to steal the dance floor away from Matron and Cid. She cracked her knuckles and popped her neck. “Right,” she said, briefly curling her fingers into fists. “I got this!”

“You got this!” Nida called from behind her.

She hopped over to the dance floor. Matron and Cid looked over and smiled at her. Wiggling her fingers in a wave, she first began swaying, letting her body warm up to the beats. Then her feet began to move first, and she let them take her wherever they desired. Soon she was spinning around the dance floor, arms out to her sides, laughing. Some of the children mimicked her and then there was a whole plethora of them all spinning around the dance floor like dandelions in the wind.

“Dance with _Sephy!_ ” one of the kids pleaded, and Selphie took her hands. The two of them twirled with each other and then suddenly Selphie was bombarded with pleas to dance with them. So mid-step she switched to another kid, and then another, until she had danced with nearly all of them on the dance floor.

 _Oh, boy!_ she thought as she clutched her stomach and finally managed to escape back to her table. _Maybe eating before wasn’t such a good idea._

And yet, when Matron announced cake time, Selphie forgot that entirely.

“Cake!” she shouted, jumping to her feet, though she had only just sat down.

Cid emerged from the house with a giant cake he could hardly carry himself. The twenty-eight candles were all sparkling like mini-fireworks. Matron helped him set it on the cake table, thus far unused.

“Come make a wish, Selphie,” Matron said, holding out a hand.

Selphie rubbed the back of her neck. “Aren’t I too old for that?”

“Nonsense!” Cid said, coming over, putting his arm around her, and ushering her towards the cake.

The sparkling candles lit Selphie’s face with so many colors, and she smiled when she saw the same effect on the kids who were crowding the table. All the sound drowned away until Selphie could only hear the music, though she knew everyone was still chattering up a storm, and the waves were crashing against the rocks below, and the gulls were still crying, as if they knew it was her birthday.

Selphie gave the tiniest of smiles. _What to wish for at twenty-eight. Am I really that old? Doesn’t feel like it._ She glanced over the kids’ heads to where Seifer was still standing, now holding an old vinyl case, the red cup still in one hand. _What would Seifer wish for? A quiet life with just enough to keep him busy and satisfied? I could see that._

There was too much to wish for. The space station, the continued happiness of her friends, the long lives of chocobos, the technological advancement of Esthar . . . All of that was so other-centric. What could she wish just for herself? _That’s not too selfish, right?_

She looked back to the candles and closed her eyes. _I wish . . . I wish that I’ll be able to see my friends again soon. I hope that’s not too much to ask, universe._ She blew out the sparkling candles and everyone clapped.

The cake was pure chocolaty goodness, just how Selphie liked it. Matron sure knew how to make a decadent, rich cake. Selphie had the tiniest piece and she swore she was set for another three years before she could have another piece again. The kids, however, stuffed two or three pieces in themselves each. The adults all marveled at their tenacity.

Next was presents time, and everyone pulled the chairs in a circle to share. Each kid had made Selphie a homemade craft; she had plenty of things to hang on the walls now, probably too many things. But she loved each and every one, and as thanks, she kissed each kid on the head. Some of them blushed, others giggled nervously, and some of them tried to escape from her kiss, but she snatched them back and they laughed.

The last gifts were from Matron and Cid, though Selphie didn’t really need any from them. After all, they were giving her room and board here at the orphanage, and even paying her though she insisted she was on paid Garden leave, still receiving her SeeD salary. But they insisted, and eventually Selphie had to give in. The fact that she had too much money than she needed or wanted didn’t seem to matter to them.

First was Cid, who gave her a coupon to a weapons shop in Balamb. “Ninety percent off an upgrade to Strange Vision. I hear they’re coming out with a new model soon.”

Selphie folded the coupon in half and carefully set it in her most secure pocket. She had seen the previews of the new nunchaku upgrades they were going to get later that year, including what items you would need, and even though she had plenty of money now to pay for it, she was thrilled nonetheless that Cid had chosen it for her. He knew her too well.

Though, something in the back of her mind was wondering just how much Cid had paid or done to get that coupon. Nothing ever had a sale for 90% off.

Next was Matron. She held a tiny gift box in her slender fingers which she extended to Selphie once the excitement over Cid’s gift had passed. Carefully, Selphie set it on her lap and undid the latch. Inside rested what looked like a little book without pages. She pulled it out and opened it, her breath catching in her throat.

“There are few pictures of your time here,” Matron said. “And those we had got lost after . . .” She never finished that sentence, but she didn’t have to. “That’s one I found early this year. It was the strangest, most fortunate thing. I’d like you to have it.”

It was a picture of Selphie, Zell, and Seifer at the orphanage when they were young. The photo was worn at the edges, and there smudges of some kind on it. But the image was clear, and Selphie remembered it. It was taken in December, and Zell had been having the worst day thanks to Seifer’s incessant bullying. Selphie had made it her mission to cheer him up, and part of it resulted in gathering the two of them together to take a picture where they were making silly faces. Both Selphie and Zell were trying their best, and maybe Seifer was too, but he wasn’t very good at making silly faces. 

Selphie loved it. She ran her fingers lightly over the edges. “Thanks, Matron,” she said quietly, then caught her eye.

“Of course,” Matron said gently.

Selphie set the photo back in the box and clasped it securely closed.

They moved the chairs away to make way for some party games. Nida was rolling up his sleeves to prepare. As they were setting up, Selphie looked for Seifer again, but he was nowhere in sight. With a frown, thinking, _Oh, so he thought he could slip out early, huh?_

“Hey, Cid, I’ll be right back, okay?” she said quickly and then slipped out herself, heading towards the meadowy side of the orphanage where it was dark. The music drifted to the background, echoing a little off the orphanage, gentle and soothing. She searched all around as she walked, in case he was somewhere else on the way to his shack.

But he was nowhere to be found. And when she stopped in front of his shack and knocked, no one answered. There weren’t any lights on either. _No way he’s asleep. It’s only like nine!_ She put her hands on her hips and turned, examining the immediate area. _Where did he skulk off to?_

She slowed her breathing until she wasn’t making a sound. There were crickets, and the very distant party music, and . . . something else. A rustling. But there was no breeze anymore, not since the party had started. She followed her ears through the maze of free-standing columns until she saw a vague dark shape.

“Seifer?” she called.

The shape moved, maybe standing up, and she knew she had found him.

 _Knew he wasn’t asleep!_ She skipped over to him, and once she was near enough, she could take in his appearance in the faint starlight and waning moonlight. “Hey, you said you’d come to the party. That means not leaving super early.”

“I was planning on coming back,” Seifer said, sounding slightly defensive.

Selphie got on her tiptoes and peered around him. “What were you doing out here, anyhoo?”

“I . . . was just getting something,” Seifer said.

Selphie blinked and wiggled her nose. “Um, out here? Were you getting some tomatoes?”

Seifer sighed. “No. I didn’t want to be a dick, so I thought I should probably get you something since it’s your birthday.”

“Oh.” Selphie physically moved back a little, though her feet stayed planted. She put her hands behind her back. “I . . . Well, I wasn’t really expecting you to give me one or anything. So, you’re probably fine. Ha.” _He wanted to give me a birthday gift? Last one he gave me at the orphanage was a . . . damn, what was it?_

“I guess since you’re here, I can just give it to you now. Probably for the best.” Seifer turned away from her.

_A toy train car he made in the shop. He painted it yellow._

Seifer lifted something.

_He painted my name on it, too. Said it was the Chocobo Express._

Seifer shook the thing in his hands a little, and Selphie bounced away from her memories. She let her eyes adjust a little more to the darkness and then she gave a little embarrassed squeak. He had flowers in his hands, from the garden. When she looked at him, he was pointedly looking away, but she could see his furrowing brows. It must have been awkward and difficult to give her flowers.

Selphie gently took them, and as soon as she had a good grip, he let go and retracted his hand to safety.

“Thanks,” she said. “I can’t really see them because it’s dark, but I’m sure they’re really pretty.”

“Right,” Seifer said. “We should probably get back to the party.”

Selphie grinned. “Oh, so eager now?”

Seifer looked at her with a frown. “You want to just stand out here?”

“I don’t know,” she said, glancing around. “It’s kind of nice, actually, you know. Don’t you think?”

Seifer swallowed and quickly looked away again. “I guess.”

She lifted the flowers. “I’m going to put these in some water, but when I get back to the party, I expect you to be trying to pin the tail on Cerberus, okay?”

“Is . . . that what they’re playing?” Seifer asked, and she could hear the cringe in his voice.

“It’s one of the kids’ favorites,” Selphie said. “Come on now. No more brooding in the corner.” She waited for Seifer to move first, which he did after a few moments, and very reluctantly. Then they were both of them heading back, one bouncing, one trudging.

  


_The next day_

  


Selphie woke with the sunrise the next day, refreshed and ready for the day. _This is my first full day being twenty-eight._ She smiled at that and got dressed. Downstairs, Cid was just making breakfast in the kitchen and Matron was pouring some water into the coffee machine. Selphie smiled at her flowers on the table, now able to see them in their true colors. Most of them were bright yellow daisies, and then there were a few pink and blue orchids in the mix. 

“Did you have a nice time last night, Selphie?” Matron asked.

“It was perfect,” Selphie said. “Best birthday I’ve had in awhile.”

_Best birthday I’ve had since the war._

“Huh,” Selphie said as she looked at the flowers.

“What is it?” Cid asked, half-absorbed in cooking eggs.

But Selphie shook her head. “Nothing. Just going to be a good day.” _I didn’t have any nightmares last night. At all. I don’t even remember falling asleep._ She smiled to herself again. _Sure am doing that a lot today._

“Where’d those flowers come from? Are they from the garden?” Matron asked, turning on the coffee machine and then taking a seat at the table. She lightly touched one of the flower’s petals. “They’re beautiful.”

“Birthday present from Seifer,” Selphie said.

Matron let out a tiny “oh” of surprise and smiled. “That was very kind of him.”

“And super weird,” Selphie said. “But nice, you know?”

Matron’s smile disappeared, and she looked at the table in concern. “Seifer left back for Winhill early this morning.”

Selphie was quiet a moment, her eyes locked on the flowers. “So soon, huh?” She brought her shoulders in a little, then suddenly she said loudly, “Well, that’s just like him to escape as soon as he can. Pff. Whatever. I’m going to set up the classroom for this morning’s lesson.”

Cid and Matron cast each other a look, then Matron said, “We’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

Selphie nodded and headed to the main classroom. There wasn’t much to really prepare, most of it just cleaning up and making sure everything was organized, but it gave her hands something to do. Unfortunately, it wasn’t intensive enough for her mind, so as she worked, she found herself preoccupied with one subject: Seifer.

It was a silly thing to be preoccupied with, but things had changed in the past few weeks. Seifer wasn’t the enemy anymore; he was a friend to become reacquainted with. And as weird as it felt to acknowledge it, his presence had done what ten years of busy work hadn’t. Seeing him as a regular person, trying his best to just live a quiet life and make no more waves, it made her realize she could move on as well. The war had affected everyone in a different way, and seeing someone who was hit as hard as Selphie, if not harder, was better than talking with a therapist or seeing her friends move on with their lives almost as if there had been no war at all.

Today had been the first morning she’d woken up with glee, ready and excited to face the day. All the other days had been forced. For a decade she had been living by the “fake it till you make it” philosophy, and it had worked somewhat, but it could never be a permanent solution. Something else always had to change.

Come to the orphanage. Work with kids. See Matron and Cid again, especially Matron.

Confront Seifer.

Befriend Seifer?

Be angry at Seifer for leaving without saying goodbye!

_Words I never thought I’d think. But really, he goes and gets me flowers for my birthday and then just leaves? And he said he didn’t want to be a dick! Well, that’s a dick move, Seifer!_

She sat down at one of the desks and sighed. _I’m so small I can still fit in this okay._

_So what is it? Back to the same old, same old? At least, until the summer ends. Then I’m back in Esthar City . . . aren’t I?_

Cid’s voice called through the house, summoning everyone to breakfast. The scent of bacon, eggs, and pancakes followed right after. No one could resist that for long. And only a few moments later, she heard laughter and the patter of children’s feet as they made a mad rush for the kitchen. They’d be in the classroom soon, as that was the only place big enough for them all at once.

_I don’t know, though. Is that what I want? That’s not what I wished for last night. But everyone back there is counting on me to come back. Can I just let them down? Can I let Ser Laguna down?_

Her fist smacked against the table.

Kids began slowly trickling in, all of them bidding Selphie good morning and trying to take bites of their pancakes before they had even sat down.

Selphie lifted her face and put on a smile. Her fist relaxed and her fingers lay flat on the desktop.

“Sephy, you gonna eat?” one of the kids asked.

“Course I am!” Selphie said, leaping to her feet. “You think I’d miss out on _pancakes_?” She ruffled the kid's hair and then headed out of the room, stopping in the hallway halfway between the classroom and the kitchen.

Nida popped out of the kitchen, a breakfast plate of his own in his hands. His face lit up when he saw Selphie. “Hey, Selphie! How you feeling? I don’t know if it’s possible to get hungover from too much fun, but I’m definitely feeling something like it.” He laughed.

“Too much fun isn’t a thing,” Selphie said, and walked by him into the kitchen. The rest of the kids were just streaming out, leaving Matron and Cid.

“Ah, Selphie. Just in time. I was just saving the last of this for you before Benin tried to take it,” he said with a chuckle. He poured some bacon and eggs out of their pans onto a plate, then added two fluffy, chocolate chip pancakes.

Selphie took a seat at the table. “Smells delicious.” She smiled. “As always.”

The couple swapped looks again, but Selphie ignored them.

“Are you all right, Selphie?” Matron asked before taking a tiny sip of coffee.

Selphie picked up a fork and viciously stabbed into the stack of pancakes. “Never better!” Then before they could squeeze anymore conversation out of her, she stuffed the pancakes into her mouth.

  


Things went about their usual way, the way they had been before Seifer showed up. Eventually, he was out of Selphie’s mind and she was back to purely focusing on the orphanage. The nightmares came back every so often, but their decreasing frequency was enough for her. One day, they’d simmer out and never come back unless she was having a particularly bad day.

The summer ticked by steadily, growing hotter and hotter until suddenly in the very beginning of September, the temperatures dropped to about eighty degrees, practically freezing considering what they’d all been dealing with for the past couple months.

And two weeks before she was scheduled to head back to Esthar City, her day was interrupted. Nida poked his head into the classroom while she was in the middle of a lesson, said that she had a communication from Garden. It must have been official, else her friends would have simply called her phone. So Selphie passed the lesson on to Nida and headed to the library where it was quiet and free of any distractions. Then she set Nida’s laptop on her knees and accepted the incoming message.

Quistis’ face appeared, grim. She had dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep recently. Selphie had gotten plenty, and wished there was a device to transfer her hours to Quistis immediately. She was glad to see Quistis’ face again, grim or not. The message must have concerned Selphie’s duties in Esthar.

“It’s good to see you again, Selphie,” Quistis said, voice tired as well. “How is everything at the orphanage?”

“Blistering until a few days ago,” Selphie said. “But I’ve enjoyed my time here a lot. It’s a nice change from what I’ve been doing. So thanks for suggesting sabbatical.”

Suggesting, as in ordering. But Selphie was still thankful.

Quistis gave the smallest of smiles--it was tired too!

_What’s wrong, Quisty?_

After a long moment of silence on both ends, Selphie quietly asked, “Is . . . everything okay with you?

“I don’t want to take you off your sabbatical sooner than we agreed on, even so close to the end, but there is a Garden matter that demands attention, and I know of no one else I would rather have helm the mission than you,” Quistis said.

Selphie’s heart began beating faster. “What happened?”

“There’s been an attack,” Quistis said.

Selphie dug her fingernails into her thighs. “Where? On whom? By whom?”

Quistis sighed. “Someone bombed the headmaster’s office at Trabia Garden.”

Selphie flinched. _Why does everyone want to hurt you, Trabia?_ “The . . . The headmaster?” _Please don’t take Luna away. Please don’t say she’s dead._

Back when Selphie had attended Trabia, she’d had many friends, but there had been a few very close to her heart. Luna was one of them. The last time Selphie had seen her, she was in the running to be headmaster of the newly rebuilt Trabia Garden. She still even had Selphie’s Triple Triad card after winning it back from Squall. There’s no one Selphie would rather have hold on to it.

The look in Quistis’ eyes was enough. Before she even spoke, Selphie knew. Luna was gone.

“I’m sorry, Selphie,” Quistis said. “I hate to spring bad news on you like this, but Garden is in need. We need to find those responsible, possibly stop future attacks.” Again she sighed, heavier this time, too heavy for her age. “With all the anti-Garden propaganda the last decade, I can’t say it’s necessarily a surprise, but . . .”

Neither of them found out what came after that. 

“I’m recalling you to Balamb as soon as possible. Garden is here, and we will be here for some time, possibly until this whole situation is resolved. I can arrange transportation for you. Zell can be there on _Ragnarok_ tomorrow,” Quistis said.

Selphie straightened and gave a firm nod. “Right. Of course.”

“I’ll see you soon, Selphie.” A little light entered Quistis’ eyes, and as if all the tiredness was suddenly gone, she said, “It’ll be so good to see you again. You’ve been away too long.”

_I know._

Selphie smiled. “It’ll be good to see you again, too, Quisty.”

At the nickname, Quistis gave a little chuckle. “Goodbye, Sephy.”

The screen went black and Selphie slouched in the chair. She stared up at the air, at the dust motes lit by the sun sneaking through the cracks in the window blinds.

_I didn’t want it to happen like this. Not with the death of a friend and the pain of the people I love._

She closed the laptop.

_Still . . ._

_My wish is coming true._


	8. Chapter 8

_I’m a Hynedamned coward._

Seifer grit his teeth as the thought crossed his mind. He tried to focus on the sound of the water crashing against the side of his boat, drown out the plethora of self-conscious thoughts that kept running through his brain. Apparently, any and all thoughts of Selphie weren’t much different from the girl herself: chaotic, rambunctious, relentless—like a torrential rainstorm that plagued a village that also suffered from intense earthquakes, all at the same time. 

He didn’t have time for this shit.

With a strained sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the cliffs in the distance approach. The week-long journey to the orphanage was usually relaxing, an opportunity for him to reflect or escape from responsibilities. Granted, that didn’t usually end well since being idle made him think too much, especially about the past, but it was what it was. On this particular return trip to Winhill, Seifer had been plagued with questions—questions about Selphie, about Matron and Cid, about fate, about coincidences. It was all too much. It had been years since he’d been overloaded with so many uncertainties, and while he wanted answers, asking the questions in the first place would only make more arise for those he asked. 

Hyne, he hated being bombarded with invasive questions. That, and he wasn’t about to call Messenger Girl up and ask her what the hell was up with her the entire time they’d been at the orphanage. 

He knew it was a dick move to just up and leave without telling her, especially after her birthday party, but he couldn’t bring himself to find her the next morning. After packing up his stuff and walking out of the shed, he’d glanced up at the orphanage, debating whether he should go in and say his goodbyes for the year or not. As he stood there, staring through the window, Matron walked into view. She’d been puttering around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the kids. When she headed over towards the curio to grab some plateware, she paused by the small table and looked down at the vase of flowers that Selphie must’ve put there at the end of the night. Matron gazed down at the flowers with a tiny smile on her face, though what exactly she was smiling about, he had no clue. Warmth spread across his cheeks. Did she realize he’d been the one to give the flowers to Selphie? Did she even know the flowers _were_ Selphie’s? 

If Selphie had taken the time to put the flowers in a vase, clearly, she’d appreciated his gift. It had been such a last minute gesture, he would’ve thought she’d hated it. That left him feeling slightly awkward, and he shuffled in place. How had she looked when she’d put them into water? Had she been smiling? Laughing? What? Whatever her expression, the fact that he’d been the one to put it there was a surprise to him. She should smile more, he thought. If Selphie of all people wasn’t smiling, then things in the world had gone to shit.

_Just like she won’t be if I tell her I’m leaving,_ he’d thought with a frown.

It was the possibility of taking away her trademark smile that had caused him to turn tail and run. He couldn’t be the one to ruin her happiness. That was already on his conscious, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it again. A flashback of her face as she’d railed at him that first night in the meadow, all red and angry and tearful, had sealed the deal, and he’d quickly walked around the side of the orphanage to the path leading away from the front door, back to where he’d moored his boat. He hated himself for being too scared to tell her to her face, but opting out of the guaranteed drama was a much better alternative than . . . well, dealing with the consequences.

A spectacularly loud splash against the side of his boat pulled him out of the past, and he realized he was nearing the dock. He moved out of the shelter of the cabin and onto the deck to prepare for landing. He’d built the small boathouse for himself a few years ago, finally deciding that he was sick of his socks getting wet every time he had to anchor the damn boat. It had worked out well; he was the only person who ever used it, and since he had the annual orphanage trip, it had been well worth the time and effort. 

When the boat sidled up to the dock, Seifer stepped over onto the wood planks before reeling it in. With familiar motions, he wound the rope around the bollard, tying it securely in place. Once that was settled, he hopped back onto the boat, grabbed his things, and dropped anchor. Without a backward glance, he left the pier and started the trek back towards Winhill.

Despite the fact that he’d been gone longer than he’d originally intended, the plains were quiet. He was grateful for the reprieve—mostly because he wasn’t equipped to handle a sudden monster attack, but also because the walk was more soothing than he’d anticipated. It was a nice way to ease back into the norm. It wasn’t as if his time at the orphanage _hadn’t_ been relaxing, but there had been far too many surprises—and too much company—which resulted in him feeling way more exhausted than usual. Even his physically taxing responsibilities here in Winhill didn’t leave him feeling quite so drained. 

Grass soon gave way to dirt, which then morphed into cobblestones, and he was officially back home. His first stop was the mayor’s house, and he was dreading that visit just slightly less than he’d dreaded telling Selphie he was leaving. In other words, quite a bit. He’d had to pull a favor from the man, from his already miniscule favor bank, and he knew that as soon as he returned, the mayor would ask him to pay his dues. 

A few minutes later, when he stood on the doorstep of the mayoral residence, he took a deep breath. On the exhale, he rapped his knuckles on the door in three, quick beats. The door opened shortly after, revealing the timid brunette who served as the mayor’s maid. With the meekness of a jumpy squirrel, she waved him into the house and explained that she’d be right back with the mayor in tow. 

While Seifer waited for them to come back, he wandered around the room. His heavy boots thudded against the finely polished marble floors, echoing back to him. He was inspecting a shiny suit of armor that was propped up in one of the corners when the mayor’s booming voice called out to him from the upstairs balcony.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Flower Keeper! I was wondering if you’d ever come back!”

Seifer narrowed his eyes and turned around, watching the man plod down the stairs with a slight scrunch to his nose. “Mayor. I told you I’d be back.”

“Sure, sure, but you know, with your type, you just never know what’s the truth,” the Mayor said with a chuckle that Seifer assumed was supposed to friendly, but fell way, way short. It just made the rotund man sound like he was mocking him instead.

“My ‘type’, huh?” Seifer crossed his arms, glaring down his nose at the shorter man.

The Mayor let out another chuckle—this one sounded more nervous—before clasping his hands behind his back. “So, what brings you around to my home?”

“You know why. I need my keys back.”

“Right, right. Of course you do. Now,” he began as he paced around the room, avoiding Seifer’s eyes. “You remember the favor we spoke of, don’t you?”

Seifer let out a short, annoyed sigh. “The favor I asked you for, or the favor you seem to think I owe you now?”

“The latter, of course.”

“Yeah, I remember. It hasn’t been _that_ long, and I ain’t that old.”

“Oh, good.” The mayor about-faced and met Seifer’s gaze. “I’ll give you your keys back, yes, but don’t forget that you owe me now.”

“Sure, whatever you say, old man. Can I have my keys back or not?”

In truth, the mayor wasn’t _that_ much older than Seifer. But the man’s haughty, better-than-thou attitude had always rubbed Seifer the wrong way. Now that he believed Seifer owed him a favor, it was ten times worse. After Seifer got his keys back, he planned on hop-skipping out of there and getting back to his daily routine. And pointedly avoiding the mayor from now on.

With an eerie, sly smile, the mayor pulled a small keyring out of his back pocket, dangling it from his pointer finger just out of Seifer’s reach. When Seifer moved to grab it, the mayor lifted it higher, causing Seifer’s fingers to graze the keys instead of taking it out of his hand.

_I am not dealing with this shit_ , Seifer thought, irritated. He crossed his arms again and glared at the man even more intently than before. Though the mayor shifted in place, he didn’t hold out the keys again.

A few seconds passed until Seifer, from between clenched teeth, said, “I guess you can take care of your monster problem yourself after all, huh?”

The mayor’s smile fell, and reluctantly, he held out the keys again. This time, Seifer snatched them out of the man’s hand before he could react, and headed for the door. As he was passing through the doorway, the mayor called out, “We’ll chat a little later, yes?”

Seifer didn’t respond, just waved his hand in the air dismissively before the door slammed shut behind him. Apparently, Amma had been right. People in this town knew who he was—he’d been an idiot to think they didn’t. Most of them just didn’t care. But some of them, like the mayor, thought they could exploit him because of that knowledge, because they were the only town in the world who was willing to house a supposed psychopath, ex-criminal, fill-in-the-blank-with-your-own-term. That might’ve been true, and yes, he did owe them, but he didn’t owe them _every_ part of himself. 

He didn’t owe that to anyone.

The second stop on his list was home. Before he swung by Amma’s shop, he wanted to drop his things off and take a quick shower. One straight week on the water, operating the boat and sitting in the unrelenting rays of the sun with limited respite, did little wonders for one’s scent. 

After unlocking his front door with his retrieved keys, he let himself inside. The first thing that caught his attention was the gleam of something metal where it leaned against the stairs: Hyperion. He stood by the doorway, staring at it with a fond expression. It was somewhat silly to miss an inanimate object as much as he’d missed his weapon, but Hyperion was . . . different. For so many years, it had been an extension of him. It was the one thing he continued to take care of, almost lovingly, and he knew it better than anyone or anything else in this world. He moved towards the stairs, pausing to run his fingers along the hilt, before heading up to the bedroom. 

Once he was inside, he threw his duffel onto the bed and starting unpacking. Piles of dirty laundry went into the hamper in the corner, his miscellaneous items were crammed into the drawer of his nightstand, and when his fingers grazed the small wooden box in the inner pocket, he slowly drew it out. A quick unclasp of the latch revealed a luminescent turquoise ball that mirrored the bright shade of his eyes. Veins of shimmering liquid swirled within the glass, and Seifer picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, twirling it to capture the light streaming in from the window behind him. When it pulsed and became warm to the touch, he placed it back in the box before closing the lid. Almost reverently, he placed it in the back of his nightstand drawer before shutting it with a push of his thigh.

Grabbing a change of clothes from his closet, he made his way to the bathroom next. After spending some time in the newly renovated shed at the orphanage, his house suddenly seemed run-down and in need of some remodeling. When he twisted the valve to get the shower going, it groaned and sputtered at the effort of starting up. With a slight tap from his fist, the water started flowing at a more regular pace and he climbed in, avoiding the metal rung above his head. 

As per usual, his mind was inundated with thoughts as he showered. All of the questions he’d had while he’d been sailing home made their ill-timed return. Why had he given that shitty little bouquet to Selphie, anyway? Sure, it had been her birthday, and he felt bad being the only guy in the group who hadn’t brought her anything, but that was a half-assed attempt at a present and he knew it. Also, why had she cared so much that he show up in the first place? The party would’ve gone off without a hitch even if she hadn’t dragged him up to the orphanage’s back patio, so why go through all that trouble?

After scrubbing his head a bit more vigorously than necessary, Seifer shut off the water a few minutes later. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he eyed the clothes he’d brought into the bathroom with him, overwhelmed with a sudden bout of exhaustion. The dying rays of the late afternoon sun filtered in through the tiny porthole window just above the tub. It was later than he’d wanted it to be, considering he still planned on checking up on Amma’s shop. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed just his sweatpants and pulled them on before heading back to his bedroom. After shoving his now-empty duffel bag onto the floor, he collapsed onto the bed, feeling a slight ache settle into his arms from working so much the past few weeks. He draped his forearm over his eyes to block out the fading sun, trying to relax his mind enough to get what little sleep his body usually let him have. Since he never got much, the two or three hours he managed to squeeze in were precious. Amma’s shop could always wait until the morning.

Not long after the sun had set, and Seifer was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep, a loud boom, followed by an explosion of color, burst outside of the window across from his bed. In quick succession, firework after firework went off. His foggy mind connected the sound to a memory of mines going off on the Dolletian beach, a decade ago, and he shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat. 

When he saw glittering ribbons of color falling past his window, he ran his hands down his face before threading his fingers through the still-damp strands of his hair. _Fuckin’ fireworks._

He’d always hated fireworks. Every year, during the Garden festival, Cid ordered the committee to coordinate a grand fireworks show that would close out the week-long event. Like a little kid, the old man always clapped with glee every time the finale occurred; the pride and joy he felt had been as obvious on his face as the information on the page of an open book. To Seifer, though, they’d been loud, disruptive, and distracting. He would’ve rather spent his time in the Training Center, or even sleeping in his dorm, but the volume of the show had always prevented that.

Disoriented, he pulled his phone from its place on his nightstand to check the date. When he realized what day it was, he threw his phone back onto the nightstand with a groan. The anniversary of the end of the war. He hadn’t realized yet another year had gone by, or that he’d been at the orphanage so long. Despite the fact that he was a somewhat-recovered alcoholic, this was the one night he allowed himself to binge at the local tavern. After all, didn’t he deserve at least that?

Though it wasn’t too late to head out, Seifer found that, for once, he didn’t particularly want to. He didn’t want to be around people, he didn’t want to pretend to socialize with anyone. That was why he’d quit, wasn’t it? To never feel like he was spiraling out of control, ever again? 

It was then that the memory of sharing a bottle of brandy with Selphie, as they’d relaxed on the beach together, hit him. He’d chalked it up to a moment of weakness, of being somewhere other than home and sitting beside someone he hadn’t talked to for years. But as he laid there, now staring up at the ceiling in deep contemplation, he realized it was because he hadn’t felt the threat of his usual worries. With Selphie there, he hadn’t been worried about losing control. In fact, it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Huh”, he said aloud, without meaning to. The realization blindsided him, and with it came yet more questions. Why was that the case? Why _her,_ of all people? Why? _Why?_

Another explosion sounded outside his window again, and he rolled over onto his side with a frustrated sigh. After curling into a ball, he tucked his face into the crook of his elbow, trying to silence the voice in his mind that was questioning everything that had happened the past month. 

There was another first he could add to his now longer-than-expected list: this time, the voice in his head was his own.

  


_Two months later._

  


Seifer watched the stream of water leave the spout and make its way into the metal watering can. Occasionally, a stray droplet would bounce against the side of the can, causing a quiet, musical ping to ring out. When the can was full, he shut the water off and made his way back into the main room of the flower shop. The second he stepped through the archway, he took a deep breath, reveling in the sweet, potent fragrance that permeated the air. It had been way too long since he’d been here.

The mayor had begrudgingly agreed to stop by the shop once a day to water the flowers when Seifer had been gone. Considering the man’s job was to govern the city, and not guarantee the quality and healthiness of greenery, Seifer was a bit wary of the flowers’ condition. 

Before he moved out from behind the counter, he pulled out a small pouch of fine white powder from inside the cabinet. It must’ve taken Amma ages to grind up the Grendel teeth Seifer brought back for her. She claimed it worked wonders on the plants, and he trusted her opinion in that regard. According to the instructions she’d taped to the bag, just a pinch was more than enough, and he was supposed to add it to a full watering can. After doing as instructed, he beelined for the flowers.

It had always been relaxing to him, watering the flowers and seeing them grow with time and care. It was one of the few things in life that was consistently rewarding, provided he didn’t fuck things up. Thanks to Amma’s inadvertent tutelage, he knew how to prevent that from happening. For once.

When he finished with the flowers under the windowsill, he realized that the shop was far too quiet. He didn’t mind the silence as much as he used to when he was younger, but there were times when it left him more prone to overthinking. This was one of them. After he finished watering the tulips, he set the can down and ambled back over to the counter. Amma always kept a small radio on the shelf underneath the register, and after grabbing it, he placed it on the countertop, positioning the speaker towards the other side of the shop. There were only a few radio stations that reached Winhill, and he went with the least grating option: classical music. 

Hyne forbid if anyone he knew walked into the shop and heard him listening to classical music.

With a satisfied nod, he returned to the tulips and resumed his watering route. He was all the way on the other side of the shop, attending to the orchids, when the jingle for a public announcement came over the radio. They happened from time to time, usually letting people know if severe weather was heading their way, or one of the mass transit lines was temporarily down. He usually ignored them, and this time was no different.

Except when he moved to the next section of flowers, the announcer came on. “We apologize for the interruption, but we have a very serious, very urgent public announcement to make. We’ve just been informed that Trabia Garden has fallen victim to a violent, horrific terrorist attack.”

Dread penetrated Seifer to his very core, into the essence of his bones. He was too frozen with shock to realize what was happening. When he faced the radio, the spout of the watering can knocked into one of the flower pots, causing it to crash to the floor. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, kicking aside some of the clay shards and fine clumps of dirt. The radio jingled again, and with a slack jaw, he focused on the announcer’s next words as if they were his lifeline.

“We are still waiting on a few of the details, but according to our source, at approximately nine in the evening last night, a bomb detonated in the headmaster’s office. There were numerous injuries, but we’ve yet to receive a comprehensive list of the victims. This attack comes at a time when . . . “

The announcer’s voice faded out of focus as Seifer slid down the wall until he collapsed against the ground. Trabia Garden . . . bombed again. How could this happen twice in one lifetime? And if _he_ wasn’t behind it, then who was?

How was Selphie feeling now? She had to have heard the news. Of course someone must have told her. Was she taking hold of the reins, declaring that she’d be the one to find out who was behind all this? Or would she be . . . like the Selphie he’d seen at the orphanage? A bit unsure sometimes, a little hesitant, maybe, about what to do? If it had been ten years ago, he’d know with absolute certainty that it would be the former. But now? Now he wasn’t quite so sure.

As he sat there, staring off into the distance, the announcer’s voice seemed to come back into focus. 

“Though the unrest towards Garden has increased exponentially since the end of the Second Sorceress War, reports in the past year reveal that the political landscape has been quieter than usual. With this recent development, it has come to light that . . . perhaps that is not the case. We will provide more information in another announcement when more evidence comes to light. For now, we advise that citizens of all major cities stay inside, recall your children from any Garden academy if they are a current student, and come forth to the authorities with any information you may have to assist the investigation. Thank you.”

There was a brief moment of static once the announcement ended, before the lilting notes of a piano concerto began playing again. Somehow, instead of the music calming him down like it had before, it gave the shop an eerie atmosphere. He rose to his feet and staggered over to the radio, shutting it off with a little more force than necessary.

Silence took over the room, and his hand lingered atop the radio as he traced the patterns on the wall. His mind raced with newfound concerns. He’d heard about all of the unrest towards Garden over the past few years, but Winhill was isolated from the heat of the discontent. Out here, it was difficult to imagine the magnitude of the turmoil in the larger cities. It must’ve been worse than he’d initially thought. Bad enough to drive someone to _bomb_ such a prominent military force.

He wasn’t an idiot. Garden had never been at the top of the public’s favorites, and immediately following the war—hell, even during the war—they’d dropped even lower on the list. What had happened in recent years to push the culprit over the edge?

There was nothing he could do to help, though, and he knew it. He’d never made SeeD all those years ago, and considering his role during the war, he couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to willingly ask for his help. Definitely not Squall, and if _he_ said no, Quistis wouldn’t be far behind. He was well past reaching out to Rinoa, so that left . . . no one. His only option was to stay in Winhill and hope that everything worked out for the best.

As he turned away from the counter, he scoffed. Since when had he ever hoped that things would “work out for the best”? Just who the hell was he turning into?

  


_A week and a half later._

  


Up above him, the deafening roar of a jet engine blew past. The fall-out from the turbines shook the leaves in front of him, and he braced the trellis against the sudden gust of wind. When the sound faded, he glared up at the sky, wondering what the hell it had been. No aerial vessel came this far out, and neither Garden could reach that high of an altitude. Whatever it was, its engines were strong enough to leave quite the trail of turbulence in its wake. 

Seifer mumbled under his breath, complaining about interruptions as he faced the trellis again. Shears in hand, he continued pruning the vines, still curious about whatever had flown overhead, but not concerned enough to let it bother him. A minute or so later, he’d forgotten all about the excitement and was focused entirely on the task at hand.

Off in the distance, the sound of wind being pulled in gradually grew louder, and Seifer glanced up from the trellis yet again. Just beyond the cover of the clouds, he spotted a glimpse of something metallic, and a deep shade of ruby. Within moments, the clouds were forced to disperse and a gigantic ship, shaped like a dragon with elongated, mechanical talons, emerged from the sky. 

He’d seen that ship once before, and never thought that he’d see it ever again.

“What the hell,” he grunted, rising to his feet from the dirt. He threw his shears down tip-first into the ground, and started for the archway that marked the town’s entrance.

As he walked, the ship descended onto the plains just outside of town. Though it was now out of view, he could hear the hum and drone of the ship’s engines powering down. When he reached the archway, he squinted off into the distance and saw two figures approaching the town. One was significantly shorter than the other; he assumed it was a woman because their figure was far more slender, and she was wearing what looked like an obnoxiously bright canary-yellow shirt. The other had a much wider build, and their outfit was significantly darker in comparison. Then again, canary-yellow had a tendency to block out any and all other shades with its intensity.

He’d only ever known one person who could pull off canary-yellow, and it was still questionable on the best of days.

Instead of going out to meet them, he leaned against one of the pillars supporting the arch. Hyperion was at home, but he knew he could look plenty threatening without it, so he crossed his arms and set a scowl on his face as he waited for them to arrive—not that scowling was difficult for him.

It was when they were only a few yards away that the details of their appearance finally came into focus for Seifer. He straightened when he realized the woman wearing the canary-yellow shirt was Selphie. _Selphie_. The briefest of glances to the side told him he didn’t recognize the brunet she was with, and his attention was quickly pulled back to his former peer.

_Why the hell is_ she _here? I go ten years without seein’ her face, and suddenly it’s_ twice _this summer?_

When she realized he was looking straight at them, she waved enthusiastically, and the biggest smile he’d seen in . . . probably ever, took over her face. “Seifer!!” she shouted, speeding up a little to reach him before her companion.

“Yeah, hi,” he grunted in greeting, arms still crossed, though he was no longer leaning against the pillar. “What are you doing here?”

Selphie faltered, rocking back onto her heels. Her smile quickly morphed into a twisted frown. “Wow, what a way to greet a friend.”

“Who said we were friends?” he deadpanned.

“Nice try, tough guy,” she said, crossing her arms with the slightest of glares. “I’m here because I wanna talk to you about something, duh.”

“Okay,” he said, finally lowering his arms. Selphie’s companion walked up to stand beside her, but Seifer didn’t give the other guy so much as a glance. “So talk.”

“Well, not out _here_.” She glanced around them, making it sound like the verdant green plains beyond was equivalent to a rank alleyway. “Don’t you have somewhere we could, you know, sit down? It’s a long flight here from Balamb.”

He stood there, seething in silence. Sure, he did, but they didn’t know that, and he wasn’t entirely sure he _wanted_ them to know that. Their time together at the orphanage had been awkward at best, downright terrible at worst, and he wasn’t sure how to act this time around. Yeah, just before he’d up and left, it did seem like they were in this strange place resembling friends, or at least, reluctant acquaintances, but . . . that was months ago. Now what were they?

Despite his confusion and the murky definition of their relationship, he did agree that they couldn’t just stand there by the town’s entrance and have a supposedly “important” conversation. With an irritated sigh, he pivoted on his heel and waved for them to follow. The patter of their footsteps against the cobblestones was indication enough that they were tagging along, so he didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder to check on them. Besides, they were just going across the square.

When they stood just outside his house, he unlocked the door and held it open for them. Once they were inside, he shut it behind the brunet and gestured to his table. Not entirely to his surprise, Selphie moved beyond the seating arrangements and beelined for the fridge. She returned with two cans of beer a few seconds later, and plopped down into one of the chairs, pushing the other beer towards Seifer.

Her companion lowered his brows in disapproval. “Already, Selphie? I dunno . . . don’t you think it’s a little early?”

Seifer scoffed. _Who is this guy, her dad?_

Selphie must’ve shared his opinion, because she rolled her eyes and proceeded to down the contents of the can. The brunet just sighed and shook his head slightly, before looking at up Seifer and saying, “Hey, man.”

“Uh, hey,” Seifer replied, staring at him in confusion. Had they met before?

The guy’s face fell. “I’m Nida? We went to—I saw you a few months ago, at the orphanage?”

“Yeah . . . right. I remember.” Seifer didn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell the guy that. He seemed crestfallen that Seifer hadn’t immediately recognized him.

Seifer glanced over at Selphie, but she didn’t notice, just crushed the now-empty can before tossing it over her shoulder towards the trash can. It bounced off the lip and clattered to the floor, though she didn’t turn around to look at it. Instead, she leaned forward on her elbows and held her hand out at the only empty chair. “Sit, sit!”

“It is my house, you know,” he reminded her as he pulled out the chair and sank into it.

“Right,” she agreed with a chuckle. “Of course I know that. I don’t live in Winhill. _You_ do.”

“That’s pretty much what I just said.”

“Right. Oh, but I already said that, too. Ha ha!” Selphie reached up and tugged on the ends of her hair, seemingly nervous. It was significantly longer than the last time he’d seen her, which was already much longer than it had been in their younger years.

“So you said you wanted to talk,” Seifer said, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Yeah, I did. You, uh, you’ve heard, right? About Trabia?” 

At the mention of her old Garden, Selphie’s expression sobered and the tone of her voice completely changed. As he’d expected, she was clearly affected by the news. There was no way she wouldn’t be. But she didn’t seem as upset as he’d expected, and he wondered if she was fighting back the onslaught of emotions, trying to keep her mask up. He knew perfectly well how hard it was to do that. He just never would’ve pegged _her_ as the type to as well.

“Yeah, I did. I—” Hyne, what did he say to her? He was shit at comforting people, and “I’m sorry” weren’t words he often said. It seemed vapid and uncaring to offer such a standard nicety in the wake of an actual disaster. Especially one so personal. After clearing his throat, he tried again. “It sucks.”

_Ugh, that’s even worse,_ he thought with an inward groan.

To his surprise, she seemed to understand what he really meant. The tiniest of smiles teased at the corners of her lips and she nodded. In a quiet voice, she started again. “Anyway, yeah, so that happened a little while ago.”

Instead of launching into her explanation for showing up out of the blue, she just sat there, staring at her hands. Seifer narrowed his eyes at her, filled with a strange, equal mixture of concern and annoyance. Eventually, when she still didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Did you seriously come all this way just to tell me that?”

Startled, Selphie’s head snapped back up. “What? No! No, that would’ve been downright silly,” she chuckled. “Heh, we came to recruit you!”

“‘Recruit’ me? What the hell for? Some sort of fundraiser or something?”

She wrinkled her nose in what seemed like distaste. “Psh, no! To come with us! We’re going to Trabia!”

Seifer’s expression slackened until his face was devoid of emotion. Unable to process enough thought power to form a response, he just stared at Selphie, confused at the optimism in her own expression. Go? To _Trabia?_

“Hell no!” he exclaimed, shoving his chair back as he shot to his feet. “What part of your Hynedamned brain told you that it would be a good idea to come here and ask me to come with you to fuckin’ _Trabia_?”

At the venom in his voice, Selphie cringed ever-so-slightly. Her companion—what did he say his name was again?—looked shocked at the level of anger in Seifer’s tone, but he had to have known why it existed. They both did . . . right?

With a frustrated sigh, he ran his hands through his hair before looking down at Selphie. In a much quieter voice, he said, “Look, it’s shitty that your old Garden got bombed. I already said as much. I hope they find the guys that did it, but I’m not about to go there and—”

Out of nowhere, Selphie jumped to her feet, her face contorting in anger. “Seifer,” she stated, interrupting him in mid-rant.

He closed his mouth with a snap and stared down at her, breathing heavily through his nose. His rapid breaths were the only sound in the room until she spoke again, in a tone far more serious than he’d ever heard from her. 

“You owe me. I don’t want to be _that guy,_ and . . . I know you don’t want to go to Trabia for your own reasons, which, trust me, I get. But you don’t get to back out of this one. You never saw what happened last time, but _I_ did. I helped them rebuild, and here we are again.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and Seifer clenched his fist in response. His nails bit into his palm. “I’m asking you to come with me and _help_ this time. It won’t, you know, change the past, but . . .” 

She trailed off and wiped at the corners of her eyes, before looking back up at him again with a smile that was more like the Selphie he knew—the mischievous, cunning, playful Selphie. It also terrified him, just a little bit. “This is your chance to redeem yourself!” she exclaimed, shaking her fists in emphasis.

Another scoff escaped him and he looked away from her as he crossed his arms, yet again. “Redeem myself, huh?” he mumbled, staring at the calendar he’d tacked to the wall. It was a few days away from October, and Trabia would be frigid already. He hated the snow, hated the cold. He also hated giving in to her whims, but . . . as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He _did_ owe her. 

Trabia was one of the things from his past that had never quite let him go. The guilt festered in him, refused to let him sleep, refused to let him forgive himself. When he’d seen Selphie at the orphanage, after so many years, the poisoned wound had re-opened and he’d been teleported back to the first initial years after the war—the years filled with too much guilt and self-hatred. Her emotional rant had sent him spiraling back down into the all-too familiar pit of self-disgust. Even still, he had a hard time looking her straight in the eye because of that guilt. He couldn’t live the rest of life with this burden, and he knew it, so what other choice did he have?

With his mind made up, he looked back at Selphie with a determined set to his jaw. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But let’s be clear that I’m doing this for me—not really even for you, and sure as hell not for Garden.”

Selphie leaped into the air with an exuberant shout. “Woohoo! I’d say thanks, but like I said, you owe me! Let’s go, then! Hurry, hurry! Pack!”

“Hyne, calm down. You’re gonna give me a heart attack with all your damned energy,” he muttered, moving past the table to head upstairs.

“We gotta make a pitstop first, but we should be able to head to Trabia in a couple of days!” she explained, pulling her companion out of his seat a little rougher than necessary.

With his hand on the banister, Seifer looked over his shoulder at her with a heated glare. “A pitstop?”

“Yeah! We’ve gotta stop by Garden and get you fitted up and processed—you know how Quisty can be about paperwork.”

_Oh, I don’t fuckin’ think so. She didn’t mention anything about going back to that hell-hole!_

Seifer clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together uncomfortably hard. His grip on the banister tightened so much, the creaking of the wood could be heard throughout the room. When it was so silent, he swore he could hear his heart beating in his chest, he faced Selphie head-on.

_“What?”_

  


_The next day, an hour outside of Balamb._

  


“Do you really have to smoke that in here?”

Seifer tore his gaze away from the panoramic, picturesque view, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He looked down at Selphie where she sat in the pilot’s seat, glare firmly in place, as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. “I don’t see a “no-smoking” sign. Do you?”

She rolled her eyes and faced ahead again, bobbing her head from side to side. “Well, duh, no. Of course not. I didn’t say you _couldn’t._ Just asked if you really _had to._ ”

“Yeah, I do.” He popped the cigarette back in place, taking a long drag and blowing it towards the windshield. It followed the curve of the glass, bowing back on them and right into Selphie’s face, like he knew it would.

When she let out a chain of dry, hacking coughs, he chuckled under his breath. She heard him and threw a heated, angry look his way, eyes narrowed and lips puckered. Shaking his head, he stubbed the cigarette out on the console and tossed the butt over his shoulder. “All right, all right. Since you won’t shut up about it, I’ll stop.”

“ _Thank_ you!” Selphie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air before letting them fall back down to the steering wheel.

A smirk teased at his lips, but he suppressed it before she could see. It wasn’t that he was averse to smiling. He just didn’t do it as often as he used to—or really, ever had. Granted, he wasn’t permanently grumpy like Squall had always been, but a genuine smile was rare for him. Oddly enough, in the past few months since he’d been seeing Selphie again . . . had he been doing it more often?

They were still an hour away from Garden, and most of the view ahead was saturated with water. In the center of the windshield, a tiny, dark pinprick sat on the horizon. As they steadily approached, it gained shape, and details began to form. Spiky crags of the mountain range along the north edge of the island solidified, and a flat protrusion jutted out from the left side of the plains—he knew from memory that it was the pier. 

The view filled him with ambivalence. It had been ten long years since he’d been back here—for good reason—and if it hadn’t been for Selphie guilt-tripping him and practically dragging him along with her, he likely never would have returned. That would have been fine with him, too. But now that they were here, he had to face his demons, whether he wanted to or not. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Angry? Frustrated? A bit melancholy? Truthfully, it was a mixture of all of those emotions; each one of them had their brief, but strong moment in the spotlight. Then, the wheel continued turning, bringing each spoke to the forefront again, over and over.

The desire for another cigarette shot through him, and his hand, wrapped around the pack in his pocket, twitched. “I’m gonna go smoke.”

“ _Again_?” Selphie questioned, craning her neck over and back to stare up at him in surprise.

“Yeah, _again_. This shit is stressing me out.” He continued to stare ahead until he saw her look forward again. A few seconds passed as he tapped his foot against the metal flooring, before about-facing and marching towards the door. As it slid open and he crossed over the threshold, he yelled, “Come get me when we’re landing.”

He took the lift down to the hallway and veered to his right, heading for the passenger cabin. There were only two—no, three—of them on the ship, so he knew he’d likely be unbothered there until it was time to disembark, time to face his past. With heavy steps, he stomped down along the aisle until he reached the first row. A deep sigh left him as he collapsed, hard, into one of the seats, kicking his legs up onto the crimson, metal railing that ran along the edge of the room. 

Unfortunately, he realized a little too late that the view was still visible from down here. A groan escaped him, echoing back from the enclosed walls and making it sound even whinier than when it had left him. He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and yanked one out, stuffing it between his lips with a slight shake of his head. A lighter was procured from his other pocket, and when the cigarette was lit, he took a deep drag, relishing in the burn as the chemicals scorched its way down into his lungs.

His eyes slid shut and he threw his head back against the headrest, concentrating on the regular hum of the engines. _Why the fuck did I agree to this?_

Behind him, the mechanical swish of the doors opening had him sitting up again. He let out an irritated grunt and twisted around in his seat to see who had decided it was a good idea to interrupt his peace; there were only two possible options. To his surprise, Selphie was the one bounding down the aisle towards him. With cinched brows, he lowered his legs to scoot forward in his seat so he could face her head-on.

“What the hell do you want?” he rasped, purposefully taking another drag when she stood just in front of him.

Instead of sitting in the seat opposite his, like he thought she would, she came around to the front of the cabin and leaned back against the railing where his feet had been only moments before. “Well, it sure wasn’t to see the sights. Coulda seen the view just as well from the pilot’s seat.”

“Yeah, so . . .”

Selphie rolled her eyes and bounced forward onto her toes, peering down into his face. “So I came to talk to _you_ , dummy.”

“What about? Last time you popped up wanting to talk, I ended up on this ship with you, so what else could possibly go wrong?” He shifted so he was facing her again, his knees almost brushing up against her legs, he was so tall.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, wagging her finger from side to side in front of him. “I wouldn’t say that. Something can _always_ go wrong.”

“For the love of Hyne, get to the point!”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded with a frown. “I just thought it would be a good idea to, you know, maybe bring up what happened at the orphanage?”

“What the hell for?”

“Because it would be good to talk about it?” Her tone of voice implied that her topic of choice should’ve been obvious to him. But she didn’t know that this was the very thing he’d been trying to avoid when he left without so much as a goodbye all those weeks ago.

A sigh leaked out of him as he threw his weight back against the leather seat. With the enthusiasm level of a janitor having to clean up fresh vomit, he said, “I hate talking about shit, but I have a feeling you won’t let it go until we do, so . . . have at it.”

With a firm nod, she launched right into the heat of things. “Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”

“Ah, Hyne . . . “ He trailed off, leaning forward on his elbows. “I don’t know.”

“Pshhhhh.” Her long, dramatic exhale elicited a raised eyebrow from him. He hadn’t expected her to call him out on his bullshit, but at the same time . . . it wasn’t entirely a surprise. This was Selphie, after all. “I’m not buyin’ that in the _slightest_ , mister!”

“Mister?” he echoed. “Who calls anyone ‘mister’, anymore?”

“Figure of speech.” She waved her hand through in the air before crossing her arms and glaring down at him—rather impressively, too. “Start talking.”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed with another sigh, straightening in his chair and running his hands up and down his thighs. “I left because . . . I didn’t wanna tell you.”

“A five-year-old could’ve guessed that. Try again!”

Frustrated at being put on the spot, he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t wanna tell you because I knew this would happen! You’d try to talk me out of it, make those big ol’ puppy eyes at me—the ones you think work on everyone, but I swear to Hyne, they don’t work on me—and, I don’t know, fuckin’ cry or some shit! Who would walk into that willingly?”

“Okay, but, don’t you think I kind of _deserved_ to know?”

“ _Deserved_ to know?” he echoed, rising to his feet. He towered over her, and when he glared down at her, he could’ve sworn she shrunk back ever-so-slightly. “I don’t think anyone _deserves_ anything. I know I sure as hell don’t, and a helluva lotta other people don’t either.”

She stayed quiet and just stared up at him with wide eyes, as if she was surprised that their conversation had escalated so quickly. Under her sympathetic, seemingly all-knowing gaze, his anger simmered to a mere smolder as opposed to its prior boil. Drained, he looked away from her and out the window, watching as they approached the Alcauld Plains.

In a low voice, she asked, “Seifer . . . was it more about you than . . . it was about me? You not telling me, I mean.”

Somehow, she’d nailed it. His eyes slid shut and he dropped his head, letting his chin rest against the curve of his shoulder. He chose not to answer, instead wallowing in his own self-pity. Yes, he hadn’t told her because he couldn’t stand to ruin one more thing in this world, couldn’t stand to be the person who dimmed her light once again. It had been more about preserving his own self-interests, preventing himself from feeling that guilt, rather than preventing _her_ disappointment. To have her call him out on it was even worse.

When he still didn’t elaborate, or answer directly, Selphie pushed off of the railing and stepped up to him. After the slightest bit of hesitation, she placed her hand on his upper arm as she moved to pass him. Her touch was incredibly light, almost impossible to feel through the layers of his leather jacket, but before he could think about it further, she lowered her arm and continued past. 

A few seconds later, he realized that he hadn’t heard the doors opening again. Confused, he turned around and saw Selphie standing just before the exit, her head bowed and her hands clenched at her sides. Before he could speak up and ask why she was just standing there, she whirled around, fire blazing in her eyes as she stated, “You know, I-I think I forgive you. For not telling me you were gonna leave. The other stuff is . . . it’s complicated— _way_ more complicated—so it’s gonna take time, but . . . this is different. So don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

“Uh, okay?” He didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but her words were so unexpected that he wasn’t entirely sure how to process them.

With a firm, determined nod, she added, “Good. We’ll be disembarking in ten, so come out to the ramp.” Then, she walked out of the room.

_How the hell does she_ do _that?_

Fifteen minutes later, Seifer, Selphie, and . . . the other guy, trekked down the ramp from the bowels of the Ragnarok, and headed through the mountain tunnel towards Balamb Garden. As they made their way down the path, Seifer’s gaze flickered from side to side, unable to stay in one place. There was limited lighting in the tunnel, just the occasional spotlight at their feet, and their footsteps echoed back from the walls. It was wide enough for the three of them to walk side-by-side, and he wondered when they’d found the time to carve such a wide tunnel through the rock. 

Seifer shifted his bag on his shoulder, impatient to get to their destination, yet also dreading their impending arrival. Would the entire gang be there? What was he going to say to all of them? Hell, did they even know Selphie was bringing him back?

He cleared his throat, and the cavernous space magnified the sound. Selphie glanced up at him with a silent question in her eyes. Without meeting her gaze, he asked, “So, uh . . . when did you guys build all this?”

Instead of Selphie answering, the other guy leaned forward with a proud smile. “A few years back! It’s pretty impressive, huh? Squall and Quistis decided we couldn’t just park the Ragnarok on the plains—bit conspicuous, am I right? So we got together with Esthar’s engineering team and they built the landing pad atop the mountain, while we handled building the tunnel that leads down into the parking garage.”

“This goes down to the parking garage?” Seifer questioned.

“Yeah! Just under the side of the Garden, on the east side if you’re facing it. Like I said, impressive, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, impressive.” He looked over at Selphie. “I’m surprised you didn’t help. They had to have used explosives.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “How’d you know I like blowin’ things up?”

Avoiding the question, Seifer shook his head and faced forward again. “I didn’t. Now I do.”

“He he he,” she laughed as she reached over and jabbed him with her elbow. “Nice trick, there.”

This time, he shook his head with a slight chuckle, which seemed to surprise both Selphie and her companion. The tunnel was starting to curve upwards now, and they continued the rest of the way in silence. When they finally reached the door that led to the parking garage—or so he surmised from the obnoxiously neon-green “P.G.” that had been painted on it—Selphie stepped forward with an extra spring in her step.

“I got it, I got it!” she exclaimed, pulling a keycard out from her back pocket. Unfortunately, when she swiped the card through the reader, it beeped and flashed red. “Hey, what the heck?”

She tried again, only to get the same result, which prompted a frustrated groan from her. The other guy joined her in front of the door, pulling out his own keycard to try. When he swiped it, the reader let out a different, more cheerful beep, and flashed green. He pulled the door open for them and Selphie walked through the doorway first, muttering under her breath in displeasure.

As soon as they were all inside the parking garage, surrounded by the familiar, acrid scent of gasoline, she piped up. “Why didn’t _my_ card work?”

“Quistis probably just forgot to activate it. We used mine on the way out when we were here last, remember?”

“No, but okay. Whatever you say,” she replied, sounding like she didn’t believe the guy in the slightest.

Their conversation continued, but Seifer heard little of it as it faded into the background. As they bickered beside him, he looked around the garage, thinking that it hadn’t changed in the slightest, despite a decade having passed since he’d last been there. The official Garden cars that transported cadets to Balamb for field exams were still parked in their same spots, and the one “undercover”, civilian vehicle was still resting in the far corner opposite the glass partition. He tried to keep his thoughts neutral, disinterested, but he couldn’t help but notice the pang of nostalgia that throbbed in his chest. 

“Hey, Seifer, you comin’?”

Startled, he looked to his left and realized that Selphie and her companion had already made it to the hallway. The brunet was peering around the glass, back at Seifer, with a slightly confused expression.

“Yeah,” he replied, glancing around the room one last time before following after them.

Again, their footsteps echoed down the hallway, and none of them said anything as they headed for the main hall. As they got closer, the sound of water splashing from the fountains Seifer knew were there, got progressively louder. The pangs in his chest grew, and he gripped the strap of his bag tighter than before, causing his knuckles to whiten. 

When the overhead lights from the lobby threatened to spill into the relative safety and darkness of the hallway, Seifer was struck with the sudden desire to turn around and bolt out of there. He tensed up, his knees locking in place as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, staring ahead at the familiar, and yet, now so foreign, landscape of the lobby.

The other guy kept walking, waving at someone up ahead, but Selphie turned around at the last minute and looked back at Seifer. Her eyebrows were lowered in concern, and when she saw him standing there, stiff as a board, she took a couple steps back in his direction.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” she said quietly, as if she were trying to soothe a wild animal who was ready to run. He supposed that that wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“Somehow, I don’t buy that, sunshine,” he mumbled.

A chuckle left her; it was loaded with a mixture of nerves and amusement. Twisting her body so that she faced him head-on, she clasped her arms behind her back. “I . . . haven’t told you this, but . . . I haven’t been back to Garden in a long, long time, too.”

Surprised, he raised his eyebrows at her. “Why’s that?”

She shrugged, glancing over her shoulder briefly before looking at him again. “Just didn’t feel right. Everyone’s been doing their thing, and I—it’s tough, you know? When people think—no, expect you to do one thing, and do that thing always. When you don’t wanna do that thing anymore, when it doesn’t _feel_ right anymore, sometimes you just have to, I don’t know, try something else. For me, that something else just wasn’t _here_.”

Her words struck closer to his own truth than he’d ever expected they would, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, trust me. I know.”

“Mhm, now I _know_ that you know. Not a lot of people get that. But see, that’s how I know it’ll be okay, ‘cause when I came back for the first time a few days ago? It just _was_.”

At that, he looked back up and met her gaze, so bright and hopeful. He let out a short, dry laugh, and finally nodded. She returned the gesture, and he walked towards her. When they stood side-by-side, she pivoted on her heel, and they made their way into the lobby together. Her companion was standing beside a woman with golden, shimmery hair—hair that looked so soft, she _had_ to wash it every damn day. It probably smelled like something ridiculously girly, like strawberries and freesia. 

When she and the brunet heard them approach, they faced them, and when Seifer recognized the woman, he nearly dropped his bag in shock. Since he’d last seen her, _ten_ years ago, she’d grown out her bangs. Her hair was past her shoulders now, curled and pinned to the side in a professional, elegant manner. It appeared that she was every bit the headmistress and leader she’d always strived to be. Despite the change in her appearance, the shrewd, ice-blue eyes behind those glasses were just the same as he remembered. 

She too must’ve seen the recognition in his eyes, so similar in color to her own, and yet, so different. With the same level of formality she’d had since she was eight, she clasped her hands in front of her and offered him a curt nod. When she raised her head again, the tiniest of smiles, though still a bit tense, teased at her lips.

“Hello, Seifer,” Quistis greeted in her lilting voice. “Welcome back to Garden.”


	9. Chapter 9

Living on memories alone didn’t prepare her for the return to Garden. The ten years had warped her image of Garden, and so she was completely blown away when she set eyes on it again. She was scared it would swallow her whole and spit her out as the Selphie she was before, that all the progress she’d felt she’d made being away would just vanish, as if she had used magic to snap it out of existence.

But then she’d seen Quistis, in front of her, not just a face on a screen. And all Selphie could do was run to her and embrace her for nearly a full minute--and Quistis let her have that full minute without complaint. Maybe she needed that time just as much as Selphie did.

At least Balamb was intact. It was safe. And if there was a threat against it, Selphie would extinguish it. She hadn’t been there for Trabia, again, but she would be there for Balamb. She had to be. If she lost Balamb too, Selphie honestly had no idea what would happen to her.

She still hadn’t seen anyone but Squall and Quistis. Selphie was glad she didn’t have to ask them to not tell the others she was back. Maybe they knew she needed some time after being away so long. And Selphie had a feeling Quistis had figured out what was going on with Selphie a while ago. If anyone would have, it was her. Everyone else was so busy with their lives to really think about it outside their messages and occasional face times with her. Rinoa and Zell were close, just in Balamb. Irvine was at G-Garden still, she’d asked Quistis. He was helping with safety concerns there in case the bombings weren’t Trabia-specific. She was somewhat relieved he was still so far away.

Selphie had gone straight to the 2F balcony after she’d dropped her things off in the guest quarters. Her dorm was still there, with all her stuff, but she didn’t look at it. She still hadn’t. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to very soon. So the 2F balcony it was, and as she was standing there, hands on the railing, looking out over the plains, Quistis had joined her.

“Still the same, isn’t it?” Quistis said as she came to Selphie’s side. “As beautiful as ever.”

Selphie said nothing, just smiled a little.

“Is it strange to be back?” Quistis asked, though Selphie knew she wasn’t asking out of ignorance. Of course Quistis knew it was strange, but she was trying to start a conversation, her first real, in-person conversation with Selphie in a decade.

“Time’s a weird thing,” Selphie said, putting her hands behind her back. “We’re so _old_. How’d that happen?”

Quistis chuckled. “I wouldn’t call twenty-nine _old_ , Selphie. But I do know what you mean. We were only teenagers in the war. I felt older than that then.”

“Me too,” Selphie said. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Or neither! Both!” She sighed and then turned to Quistis. “Hey, Quistis?”

Quistis was still looking out lovingly over the plains, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, Selphie?”

“I’m . . . sorry I was gone so long,” she said quietly. She put one hand on the railing and squeezed it. “I wouldn’t have been if I didn’t really . . .”

“It’s okay, Selphie,” Quistis said, turning her head and giving Selphie a tender look. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Her gaze remained on Selphie for a few, long moments, then she looked back out over the landscape, the still same serene look on her face. “All that matters is that you’re doing well.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but it was one. Selphie thought about it a moment, thought mostly about her time at the orphanage and on the _Ragnarok_ most recently. It was strange to find peace in one of the things that had previously caused her so much pain, but that was the truth of it. If she had thought of Seifer even just several months ago, the image would have caused her uncontrollable anger, but now as she thought of his face, it prompted a smile.

_So weird._

“Yeah, I’m doing much better,” Selphie said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Quistis said. She put a hand on Selphie’s shoulder. “I understand if you want to rest before we get into the mission. You’ve been gone a long time; there’s probably a lot to catch up on personally.”

Selphie nodded. “Right. Tomorrow?”

Quistis smiled. “Tomorrow sounds perfect. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

_Because you know I always do._ Selphie saluted and smiled. “Will do!”

The rest of her first day back had been quiet. She’d seen Squall in the hall, they’d talked for a few minutes, nothing too intensive--of course, it was _Squall_. But he was busy and he’d gone on his way.

A few people came up to Selphie, asked how she was doing. Some of the junior classmen were all grown up, and at first, Selphie didn’t recognize them. But it made her happy seeing them again, especially finding out who had passed the SeeD exam like she had ten years ago. Others avoided her, but she was more than fine with that.

When she’d gone to bed that night, she realized the grey lump was the smallest it had ever been since its birth, and the claws, though still there, only hung on loosely, like a backpack.

She had no nightmares that night, not even about Trabia.

The mission briefing was just four people: Squall, Quistis, Xu, and Selphie. Everything went smoothly until Quistis asked Selphie just who she wanted to join her task force. 

“Nida, of course,” Quistis had said. “Do you have any other ideas? We have a lot of good people at Garden, many of them you probably don’t know. You’ve mostly interacted with non-Garden personnel in the most recent years.”

“True,” Selphie said. “But . . .”

Everyone looked at her, waiting.

Selphie gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I do have one idea of someone who’d be good.”

“Who is it?” Squall asked, and from his tone, Selphie could almost believe he suspected who it was, but that was literally impossible. It just made the whole thing all the more-- _Ha, ha, interesting? Exciting? Ironic? Oh, boy._

She put her hands up. “All right, now, don’t immediately get all crazy or anything. I have good, solid reasons for choosing him!”

“Choosing _who_?” Quistis urged.

Clearing her throat, Selphie glanced away a moment and then said, “Seifer.”

Selphie experienced a silence she never had before. She found it both exhilarating and slightly terrifying. The other three stared at her, each with a completely different expression. Xu seemed thoughtful, Squall looked like he’d seen the ghost of Ultimecia rise up, and Quistis seemed a mixture of both confused and suspicious. Convincing them would probably be more challenging than Selphie had predicted, though why she had even thought it’d be easy in the first place was beyond her. 

_My good, old optimism coming back, I suppose._

“Same Seifer, if you were wondering,” Selphie said. “The Almasy one.”

“I think we’re all on the same page on that account,” Quistis said, holding up a hand. “I think the question we’re all wondering--” She paused, lowered her head a moment, and then brought it back up. “Questions we’re all wondering is why and how you . . .” She stopped again, but this time didn’t try to start up again, instead deferring to Squall for help.

Few things made Quistis unable to find words, and it seemed Seifer was one of them.

“I didn’t even know he was alive,” Squall said.

“No one really did,” Selphie said. “Well, except for Matron and Cid. Seifer stops by there every summer to fix things up and stuff. I was just as surprised as you are, believe me. And I still think it’s weird that we . . .” Now Selphie was at a loss of words. _That we what? Am I just making things up? He did just leave without saying goodbye, and I thought we were . . . Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe it was just me who thought something was happening . . . Whatever that may be._

Quistis furrowed her brows in concern and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Are you two on good terms?”

Selphie opened her mouth and then closed it. She blinked a few times, then finally said, “Kind of?”

“Kind of?” Xu said, tilting her head to the side.

“I haven’t had time to really write a report,” Selphie said.

“I wasn’t expecting one,” Quistis said. “And I still don’t. But it _is_ important that we understand just what happened or is happening with Seifer.”

Squall folded his arms and looked away.

“Well . . . Er . . .” Selphie rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know, we got friendly a little. He’s a lot different than he used to be. And I really think him being on this task force would be a good idea!” She curled her fingers into fists. “I’m serious, Quistis. You know me. I wouldn’t just suggest Seifer for kicks and giggles.”

Quistis sighed. “I can’t just authorize a non-Garden member to join the task force, let alone someone who used to be an enemy of Garden. I know you’re serious about this, Selphie, and if I weren’t headmistress of Garden then perhaps it’d take less convincing. But there are dozens of students under my care who trust me, and I can’t let someone into such a highly sensitive task force without something more than words.”

Selphie clenched her jaw. “I know. And it’d be unfair of me to ask you as a personal favor.”

“Personal favor?” Squall repeated, looking back. “Why does it mean so much to you? I know you spent more time with Seifer at the orphanage when we were young than most of us, but that doesn’t change what he did during the war, the things he did then that personally affected you.”

“I know, I know,” Selphie said with a sigh. “And he and I have gone over that.”

“Gone over it?” Quistis asked warily.

“Okay, well it was more than just _that_. But I . . . I don’t hate him anymore. If you met him, you’d understand. He’s not even the same person anymore. He’s a completely different Seifer! If you would just let me bring him back here, you can talk to him yourself, and then I just know you’d approve him,” Selphie said.

“What makes you think he’d want to?” Quistis asked evenly.

She wasn’t being attacked, but part of Selphie felt like she was anyway. And for defending Seifer, of all things. What would he think if he could hear what she was saying right now? 

_Too embarrassing! He can never know._

“Selphie?” Xu prompted.

“He just needs some motivation,” Selphie said. “I’m good at that. Let me go talk to him, let me bring him back here. He can at least come here, right?”

Quistis and Squall swapped a look that Selphie couldn’t read. They’d been able to swap glances for more than ten years. Selphie wouldn’t have been surprised if they were telepathically linked by now. She was a little envious. Being apart from them, from everyone, meant she knew them less than they all did each other. She was one step behind, and it would take more than one mission to catch up. But she was willing. She wanted to be able to just look at someone and share the same thought like she had back in the war, especially with Quistis.

Defending Seifer just put another wedge between them. But that wouldn’t last forever. They just had to see him again, talk to him again, even if none of them were fond of talking to each other.

“I can grant him entry to Garden as a favor to you, but I can’t make any promises of joining the task force,” Quistis said.

Selphie wanted to kiss Quistis, but she controlled herself and just smiled. “That’s all I ask. I’ll get him here.”

“She could borrow _Ragnarok_ ,” Xu suggested.

A million exclamation points went off in Selphie’s head, unattached to words. Her excitement at seeing her old friend was beyond that. “Then it’d take no time at all.”

Quistis finally smiled, and that was when Selphie knew everything would be okay. Her smile had that ability. Even over a screen. Even in words on a page, because Quistis always made it apparent. It was the skill she possessed that Selphie hadn’t seen in anyone else.

“All right, Selphie,” Quistis said.

Even Squall was smiling, but it was different. _He probably doesn’t know how to feel._

“Thank you,” Selphie said, saluting. “Really, thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“You never have,” Quistis said, and she, Squall, and Xu all saluted back.

And now, here Selphie stood with Seifer in Balamb Garden. The tenseness between Quistis and Seifer was palpable, but both of them seemed calm, considering. Hearing Quistis now say his name must have been a little bit of a shock for him. At his sides, his hand was a tight fist, and Selphie wished she could touch his arm and have him relax, but she kept her hands to herself.

“Quistis,” he said back, probably in a more uncertain tone than he was hoping.

Quistis glanced at Selphie the tiniest bit, then spoke to Seifer. “So, you want to join Selphie’s task force?”

Selphie stiffened, expecting him to explain just how he had been coerced into coming here.

But he surprised her, almost nonchalantly saying, “It’s something to do that pays, isn’t it?”

Quistis’ eyes grew slightly dangerous, and her smile grew. “Of course. Shall we proceed to my office?” She gestured towards the elevator and they all began walking towards it. “Squall won’t be able to join us, unfortunately. He has business in Balamb.”

_With Rinoa,_ Selphie thought. It was a good excuse to avoid seeing Seifer.

Selphie glanced at Seifer from the corner of her eye to see his reaction just as he muttered, “Wussing out again, is he? Typical.”

Quistis visibly started, perhaps shocked that he would so easily mention something from before the war like that, but she said nothing about it at all, didn’t even acknowledge it.

The elevator was even more uncomfortable, with Quistis and Seifer on opposite sides, as far away from each other as possible. Meanwhile, Selphie equidistant between the two, wondering if there was anything she could say, but considering how she herself was upon meeting Seifer for the first time since the war, she knew there was nothing she could do. Any lingering issues Quistis and Seifer had with each other could only be solved by them alone.

The elevator dinged when they reached the top level, and as they exited, Selphie grabbed Seifer’s arm and pulled him aside. Quistis stopped a few yards away, enough to glance back and see what they were up to, but then she continued on to her office.

Selphie let go of his arm when she had his impatient attention. “Hey, before you go in there--”

“Wait, am I going in alone?” Seifer asked with a frown.

“Ha ha, well, you see . . .” Selphie bit her lip. “I should have mentioned earlier, like back in Winhill--”

As she stumbled over her words, Seifer’s frown got progressively deeper until he looked like he was just holding back his anger.

“You’re not approved to join the task force yet. Quistis wanted to assess you in person first, since it’s so sensitive, and considering . . .” She pressed her fingertips together and looked away.

“Since I tried to blow Garden up, yeah, I remember,” Seifer said.

Selphie was surprised she didn’t wince. She looked at him again. “Anyway, so that’s what this is, and I’ll just be right outside. And if she approves you--she has to--then we can have our actual briefing and get to work.”

Seifer sighed, but it seemed yielding. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” He turned away and followed after Quistis, who was waiting just inside the office. Once Seifer was in, Quistis nodded to Selphie and closed the doors.

A one-on-one conversation with Quistis so soon was probably one of the last things on Seifer’s to-do list, if it was even on there at all. She was more understanding than most, but even then, she wasn’t so cold and stiff that Seifer’s actions in the war hadn’t deeply hurt her like they had everyone else. Selphie had rarely seen her the blonde lose her cool, but the conditions in the headmistress’ office at that very moment were ripe for it.

Selphie paced the floor for a little bit and then sat down in one of the benches outside the office. Unfortunately, the walls were completely soundproof, so she couldn’t listen in to their conversation--not that she was especially prone to eavesdropping. She was just worried, for both of them. She knew it was hard for both of them: Quistis, having to maintain her professionalism as headmistress of Garden as she confronted the man who betrayed her ten years ago, and Seifer . . . well, there were too many things to list.

_Did I just spring this on them? Does this make me a bad person?_

Some time later, the elevator came back up and out walked Nida. “Hey, sorry, I got completely sidetracked with an old friend.” He sat down beside her.

“It’s fine. I didn’t even notice you were gone,” Selphie said.

Nida winced and chuckled. “That seems to happen way too often . . .”

Selphie blinked. “What do you mean?”

Nida waved it off. “Nevermind.”

“Okay,” she said easily and looked back to the office doors. With a sigh, she slouched down and looked at her hands. _How long are they going to be?_

The answer was three hours, three entire hours. When the doors finally opened, Selphie jolted out of her nap and jumped to her feet. First out was Seifer, who strode by without so much as a glance in Selphie’s direction. She scrunched her nose in annoyance, but she was more interested in Quistis. The headmistress appeared a moment later, stopping in the doorway, arms folded, looking after Seifer curiously before she noticed Selphie was there.

“Did you wait here the entire time?” Quistis asked.

Selphie laughed nervously. “Maybe. So . . . how’d it go?”

Quistis’ brow furrowed, then she gestured for Selphie to enter the office. Once inside, she closed the doors and faced Selphie. “All right.”

For a moment, Selphie was silent, waiting for more; when the seconds got longer and Quistis said nothing more, Selphie finally asked, “All right what?”

“I approved him for the task force,” Quistis said.

Selphie’s eyes grew huge and round. “Just like that?”

Quistis smirked. “I . . . wouldn’t consider three hours of intense . . . discussion with Seifer Almasy ‘just like that.’ It might be the most interesting three hours I’ve spent in years, and well used even if it was a little uncomfortable. Though, ‘little’ might be too weak a word.”

“So . . . did it go well?” Selphie prompted.

“No one was yelling, if that’s what you’re asking,” Quistis said as she ran a hand through her hair and gathered it all over one shoulder again. “We didn’t talk much of specifics, and I suppose over the years I’d forgotten them anyway. I moved on, more than I thought I had. When I first saw him, I had planned for the entire meeting to go to hell. But I was calm.” She looked up through the ceiling windows to the sky. “Much calmer than I expected. And so was he. A little stiff and prone to grunting, but calm. So different from the Seifer I remember.”

Selphie smiled but hid it away as soon as Quistis was looking back at her again. “I’m glad,” Selphie said with a little nod. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so nervous. I mean, it’s you after all, isn’t it? Not like Zell had to approve him or anything.”

“Or you,” Quistis said, her eyes alight with interest, but otherwise unreadable as she gazed intensely at Selphie. “If you had first met him here in the same conditions, how would it have gone?”

_An extended version of that night in the meadow ending with me kicking his ass from here to Centra,_ Selphie thought. “Probably don’t want to think about it.”

Quistis finally smiled, and it was accompanied with a little laugh. “Probably. Whatever the case, I mostly approved him for you. It was an intense three hours, but still not enough for me to truly see just how far Seifer has come. So I filled in the remaining blanks with my trust in you.” She leaned forward a little. “And it was just enough that I feel comfortable doing that as headmistress of Garden. I may have to give Xu and Squall something a little more convincing, but I suppose it just takes time, doesn’t it? And none of us have had that save for you.”

“Thank you, Quistis,” Selphie said.

But Quistis shook her head. “Don’t thank me, Selphie. Thank yourself.”

_Myself?_

“The mission briefing will be tomorrow at 1000 hours. I’ll see you and Seifer there,” Quistis said, suddenly in professional mode. She did it so easily, as if there was no transition to be had. She walked back to her desk and stood behind it. “If you need anything before then, please let me know. I’ll be here.”

Selphie nodded and turned.

“Oh, Selphie,” Quistis summoned.

She hopped back around. “Yes?”

Sitting at her desk, Quistis’ eyes softened. “President Loire called this morning. He was asking after you and I told him everything was going well. Everyone in Esthar is missing you, wondering when you’ll be back.”

Selphie gave a big smile. “Well, I miss them too. Maybe I should send them a message.”

“I’m sure they’d like that,” Quistis said.

Selphie gave a little bow and then left Quistis’ office. No one was in the waiting room, so she took the elevator down to the main floor. Still no sign of Seifer. Humming, “Where’d you go?” under her breath, she made her way around the center, glancing down each branch hallway until she was back at the main entrance. With her hands behind her back and a disappointed frown on her face, she tried to think of all the places Seifer would have gone. _Training center? Cafeteria?_

That’s when she heard someone calling her name. It wasn’t Seifer, but someone else very, very familiar. The last time she heard it was on March 17th, the day she’d called to wish a happy birthday. She turned, a shocked, but pleased, expression on her face as she saw Zell Dincht running from the gates towards her, hands in the air, still wearing a pair of ugly, baggy shorts that she just absolutely adored because of who was wearing them.

“Selphie!” he cried again. He leaped high into the air, coming down right beside her. Before he gave her a chance to take him in, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air. “Aw, man, it’s been too long!” He set her back down and then stepped back a little so he could take _her_ in.

Of course she’d seen his face on a screen earlier that year, but that never gave a true indication of just what someone looked like. His hair was no longer spiked with gel like it had been years ago, but was shaggy and a little long, a few pieces settling over his vivid blue eyes peeking out. They were so much more dynamic and alive in person, and Selphie could hardly imagine how she’d lived with only the poor substitute the screen allowed her. His cheeks were less full, his jaw stronger, and smile lines already graced the corners of his eyes.

She probably looked much the same save for the hairstyle she’d only recently adopted. _I haven’t changed much at all, have I? Everyone aged like they’re supposed to. Even Seifer. So what’s up with me, huh? I don’t want to be a perpetual 17-year-old. What’s wrong with me, then?_

“It’s so good to see you again! Aww, I’m probably blushing, aren’t I? Hyne.” Zell laughed and then wrapped his arms around her, this time twirling her around a few times before setting her on her feet.

Selphie grinned and gripped his arms tightly. “But it’s cute!”

That just made Zell blush harder. “Rinoa’s gonna flip when she knows you’re here. Actually here! Are you sure you’re real?” He gripped her forearms, tightly.

“I’m real as you,” Selphie said.

“I almost thought you’d never come back,” Zell said. Before Selphie could apologize, he said, “I mean, I guess I can always visit you. We all could. Like Irvine. It always slips my mind, you know? Ah, geez, I could have been seeing you and Esthar all the time. Being a SeeD’s tough work, though, you know? Of course you know!”

Selphie just giggled. “I guess we all just kind of got stuck in what we were doing.”

Zell nodded vigorously.

“Hey, how’d you find out I was here?” she asked.

“I overheard some students who were visiting the bar,” Zell said.

_So not Quistis or Squall. Thanks guys. Not that I’m annoyed Zell knows. I think I’ve had enough time to settle back in enough. Seeing Zell first is perfect. He may be one of the purest souls I’ve ever met!_ She laughed when she thought that.

“Huh? What?” Zell asked.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just so happy to see you again,” Selphie said. “So you didn’t tell Rinoa?”

Zell slapped his face. “Aw, shit, no. I just came straight here. Literally, I heard it this morning and came right over.”

“It’s okay,” Selphie said. “It’ll probably be good to see her in Balamb before Seifer and I take off.”

Now Zell looked like someone else had slapped him in the face. “Wait, what? Seifer?! You tellin me he’s alive and here?”

“He’s joining my task force,” Selphie said proudly, jerking a thumb at her chest.

“Your _task force_?” Zell put his fists up. “To combat the bastards who bombed Trabia? Is that it? Why the hell is _he_ on that? So he can make sure to finish what he started?”

Selphie frowned. “No . . . he’s . . . he’s different. He’s not the bad guy anymore.”

Zell’s energy left him and he hung his head and arms. “Aw, man. Really? But . . . You know what he did, Selphie. And you’re cool with him?”

“Mhm,” Selphie said easily, trying to keep the lightness in the conversation. If she made one negative sound or word, Zell would just latch on to it. This way, she kept up the positive vibes. If she had to fight for Seifer with all the optimism and happiness her body could hold, she would. 

_WEIRD. WEIRD. WEIRD._

Zell uncurled and looked at her curiously. “You’re one of the last people I expected to . . . Well, did you forgive him and all?”

Selphie nodded.

“Are you two . . . _friends_?!” he pushed further, eyes huge with disbelief.

_Seifer would say no._

Selphie glanced away and then turned mischievous eyes onto Zell. “Yes, we are.”

“Holy Hyne,” Zell breathed. “Are you _sure_ you’re the real Selphie?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I’m sure, dummy. Stop asking that!”

“You want to go say hi?” Selphie asked.

Zell’s face went white and he took a few steps back. “Say hi to Seifer? I . . . Say hi to Seifer. I don’t . . . You really think . . . ?” His brows furrowed and he seemed to be seriously contemplating it. “Would you just say ‘hello’? Or would it be more like--” He gave a curt nod to an imaginary person and said in an un-Zell-like, deep voice, “Seifer.”

Selphie laughed. “I was just kidding! Sorry, sorry.”

He turned round eyes onto her. “Oh.”

“But seriously, he doesn’t bite. He might call you Chicken-Wuss for old time’s sake, but otherwise, I think he’ll mostly try to avoid having to talk to you.”

“Chicken-Wuss . . .?” Zell’s face actually brightened. “Shit, he hasn’t called me that in ages. I forgot about it. I used to hate it when he did that. Now it’s almost . . .” He paused a moment, deep in thought, then he shook his head. “Nah, I could never.”

Selphie tilted her head to the side. “You sure?”

Zell gave her a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye and then thought some more. “But . . . it’s Seifer. I hate everything he does on principle. I gotta!” He looked at Selphie again and then sighed. “Aw, fuck. Are you the only one who’s seen him?”

Now she shook her head. “Quistis.”

“Do you think I really should . . .” He rubbed the back of his head and then laughed. “No way. No way! I’m not going to see Seifer. _He_ has to come to _me_!”

“Done,” Selphie said.

“W-what?” Zell flinched back a little. “Are you serious?”

“We can come visit you and Rinoa,” Selphie said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Zell said.

Selphie snorted. “Seifer surrounded by puppies and kittens? I think that’s just what he needs. Me too. So will you let Rinoa know we’re coming?”

Zell sighed. “Aw, I can’t say no to that face.”

“No, you can’t!” she teased. “We’ll see you there. Meanwhile, I have to go find where he skulked off to.” She turned around, and a part of her wanted to turn back so she could just look at Zell because it had been so long, but they had time. Now that she was back, everything would be easier. Everything would be _good_. 

“Well, don’t look too hard,” Zell said.

She looked over her shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to help me look?”

Zell jumped and put his fists in the air again. “No way! I’m going to get some hot dogs while I’m here and then run back and find Rinoa. We should plan something awesome. Don’t you worry!”

“I won’t,” she promised, sticking her tongue out for old time’s sake, and then looked forward again. She put a hand high in the air. “I’ll see you later today, Zell!”

She started forward and didn’t look back over her shoulder until she was sure Zell was no longer focused on her. Her eyes followed him as she strode to the cafeteria happily and her body filled with warmth. The blue lump grew, bigger than the grey one for the first time. She rubbed her shoulder a little, wondering what was left to get rid of the claws and that dreary lump altogether. Whatever it was, it was close.

_And Seifer has to be close, too. Where did he_ go _? I wasn’t even talking to Quistis that long. He couldn’t have gotten that far._

“If I was Seifer, where would I go?” She hadn’t had much time back in the day to observe him when he headed the Disciplinary Committee, so she didn’t know his usual spots, if he had had any. But the modern day Seifer either liked the quiet, far from other people, or fighting monsters. There _was_ a place in Garden where you could do both.

“Maybe I should play the part. Get into his head.” She winced a little. “Okay, well maybe not _that_ much.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing away any random thoughts until she could focus on her inner Seifer.

When she opened her eyes, a student was standing in front of her, staring at her in confusion. “Miss, are you okay?” they asked.

Selphie cleared her throat. “Trying to find someone.”

“That guy in the leather jacket? He didn’t look Garden,” they said. “And I know everyone here, even the SeeDs.”

_Does that include me?_

“That’s the one!” she said. “You know where he went?”

The student pointed to the dorms. “Over that way.”

“Huh. Thanks!” Selphie saluted and then headed off at a jog towards the dorms. The guest rooms weren’t in the same wing as the dorms anymore, so Seifer was probably trying to find where he was going to be staying. No one had told him, as Selphie had been planning on showing him the way herself once his meeting with Quistis had concluded. But of course he had to go rampaging off. The walking muscle in action.

She slowed down when she left the main room. It got quiet, the sound of water faded away, and it was just the sound of her footsteps, clacking against the hard floor and bouncing off the walls. There was no one really around, most of the students in class at the moment, which made it easier to spot anyone. But as she turned down the hallways, she saw no one, especially no one in a leather jacket.

At one of the crossroads, she stopped to think.

_A map would show him the guest rooms aren’t here, so maybe he’s already over there. How long ago did that student see him go in here?_

She looked down each of the four hallways.

_Unless . . ._

Suddenly, she turned back the way she had come, this time turning down a hallway she hadn’t been before. She walked up to one of the doors and stopped. There was no name card on the front, so no one was occupying this dorm room at the moment. Either it was coincidence or no one had wanted to move into Seifer’s old room after he betrayed Garden.

Selphie knocked.

A few moments later, the door slid open and there was Seifer, staring down at her from the shadows of his room.

“Hi,” she said.

He made a confused face, then turned around and retreated back into the room. Selphie followed, turning on the lights as she went. Since Seifer had never made SeeD, the dorm had two bedrooms, but he only went to the left one, the one he must have occupied. He stood just inside it, just standing there.

Selphie came up behind him and looked around. Like the rest of the dorm, his old bedroom was spotless, probably cleaned out soon after the war. There was a little layer of dust over everything, so the custodial staff probably didn’t see it as a priority to keep up.

“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t been to my old room yet, and my stuff’s all still in there,” Selphie said.

“I don’t know why I came here,” Seifer said in a low voice.

_To Garden or to your room?_ She was too afraid to ask.

“This is the first time I’ve been here without Fujin and Raijin,” he said.

Selphie still remained quiet, though again she was wondering just where those two were. They almost followed him to the ends of the world. And after the war, they had to have been there for him, to help him deal with the aftermath. Not that she knew them well, but they seemed the kind of people to do that. The kind of friends. And the way Seifer’s voice trembled when he spoke about them, even that little mention . . . They were family.

“Hyne, I tried so hard,” Seifer said. “Pathetic.”

_Me too._

“If I never ended up becoming _somebody_ , then what was the point?” Seifer mused. “And now I’m just this guy who doesn’t really do anything, who’s just a bad memory.”

Selphie looked up at him, but he was staring at something she couldn’t see.

“I don’t mind it,” Seifer said. “Hell, I think I even like it.”

“Minus the _bad_ memory part, right?” Selphie asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “I can’t change that. But now . . . I don’t know. It’s different.”

Selphie’s lips parted somewhat.

“Quistis has changed—in a lot of ways,” Seifer said. “But she’s still the same Instructor Trepe at heart, isn’t she?”

He was still smiling a little, and Selphie was amazed. He was thinking of Quistis and smiling? Quistis had said they’d both been uncomfortable those three hours, and she was good at reading people, so it must have been true. Still, it didn’t seem to bother Seifer much now. 

_Was that really all both of us needed after all?_

“Probably a damn good headmistress. Better than Cid,” Seifer said. “Not that that’s hard to do.”

_The right person to talk to?_

“You know what I’m talking about,” Seifer said. “You spent months with him and Matron. He’s much better suited for there than he is here.”

_At least . . . to talk to first, before all the others._

Seifer shook his head. “This fucking place.” He finally turned to Selphie and she blinked out of her thoughts to look at him. “How the hell did you convince me to come here?”

“I’m still not sure,” Selphie admitted. “But I’m glad I did.”

His eyes narrowed and he frowned at her. “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked, though she knew exactly what he was asking. She was just trying to put off answering because she had no idea of the real answer. It was baffling to her still, even despite how far they’d come from that night in the meadow.

“Why are you _glad_? You don’t make any sense,” he said, looking away again.

_Well, that’s true a lot of the time._ “Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves.” It was a safe answer, though too impersonal to satisfy Seifer. But at least it would hold him off until she could sort out her feelings.

“Really?” he said, less as an honest question and more as a sarcastic comeback.

But he didn’t push her. Instead, he just turned. “Let’s get out of here. This place is . . .”

“The past,” Selphie said.

He eyed her in interest, but instead of answering, he just went out into the hallway. After a moment, she followed him.

“So, by the way,” Selphie said, in a tone that had Seifer looking at her suspiciously, and honestly, almost in fear-- _I kinda like it._ “We’re going to Zell and Rinoa’s tonight.”

Seifer just looked at her.

“Er, are you going to say anything?” Selphie asked.

“I thought that was the start of a joke, so I was waiting for the punchline,” he said.

Selphie smiled. “Nope, no joke.”

Seifer rolled his eyes and started walking, probably in a random direction as they were heading the opposite direction of the exit. When he finally realized this, he stopped and spun around, his nose scrunched up in anger. “Where the hell are we anyway?”

“You’d think my memory’d be rusty too, but it’s working just fine. How bout this? I show you the way out and you go to Zell and Rinoa’s with me,” Selphie suggested.

With bewildered eyes, he turned away, looking down the hall. Then he turned back.

Selphie just smiled at him.

“I can find my way out just fine,” Seifer said, heading back the way they came.

“Sure, sure, I believe you,” she said, following after him again. She stayed silent as they wandered the halls, her eyes on his back, watching how the leather looked as the lights shifted overhead. The sound of his boots on the floor was quite pleasing too. He walked with such purpose, as if he wasn’t lost, as if he knew exactly where he was going and how to get there. If he wanted to retain his pride and not ask for directions, Selphie was happy to let him.

Of course he’d eventually find his way out. The place wasn’t a maze. But it was entertaining.

_Makes me feel seventeen again . . ._

She was almost a little disappointed when they arrived at the main hallway, but she didn’t let it show.

“I guess I’ll have to go all by myself,” she said, in an exaggeratedly dramatic voice. “I even have to go all the way _there_ myself. There could be monsters or highwaymen.”

Seifer stopped, and with an exasperated sigh that just barely masked a humorous puff of air, said, “What the hell you talking about?”

“ _And_ it’s going to be dark when I come home afterwar--” She stopped suddenly when she realized she had said the word _home_. To anyone else, it was nothing huge, but she hadn’t called Garden that specifically for a long time now, just a year or two after she’d finished rebuilding Trabia.

Nothing seemed off to Seifer, because he just said, “Selphie, I’m not going to see them.”

He used her name again. Each time was always both a breath of fresh air and a weird slap to the face--not a bad slap, but more like one someone would use to wake you up.

“Okay,” she said, suddenly quiet. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Wasn’t right.”

Seifer blinked and leaned back a little.

“You forgive me?” she asked.

But before Seifer, who actually looked afraid now, could answer, they were joined by Nida. “There you two are!” He stopped in front of them, doubled over to catch his breath, then straightened again. “There’s been a new development. You both need to come to the headmistress’ office right away.”

Selphie’s heart twisted. _Oh, no. Please don’t be another attack on Trabia. Not so soon. Please._

Xu and Quistis were already in the office when the three of them arrived, both staring with frowns on their faces at a large flatscreen on the wall. They were watching a recording of someone in all red with a white mask on saying something in a muffled, mildly threatening voice.

When Selphie was close enough, she caught the last part of the video: “Join us to end this blight. Garden must be cleansed. Let no one else suffer at their hand.”

_What?_

“This is the holy path, and the holy path cannot be hindered.”

The recording stopped, and when Selphie looked over, Xu was holding out a controller to pause it. She set it on a nearby table and shook her head. Quistis bowed her head and then faced the three newcomers.

“We now know who is behind this attack,” Quistis said. “They’re a group calling themselves Sanctus.”

“Wait, Sanctus?” Selphie’s eyes widened. Her mind traveled back, to the graffiti case in Esthar City. Of course she’d dealt with lots of graffiti; it was a given in a large city like that. But this had been purposefully targeted slander towards the Garden establishment. The world had been dealing with anti-Garden propaganda since the war, but until now, it had never been anything more than that. 

She remembered precisely one piece in particular: the image of Alexander surrounded by a strange symbol and the word Sanctus. It meant holy, so she thought nothing of it, really. They’d found the perpetrators and let Esthar Police handle it from there: bigger fish to fry. At least, it had seemed so at the time. Now Selphie knew she should have known better.

Sanctus had killed Luna. Sanctus had killed two others. Sanctus had declared war on Garden.

_I don’t want another war._ Her fists dug into her thighs. _But I’ll do what it takes. I can’t let them get away with this._

“I want to watch the whole thing,” Selphie said.

Quistis nodded to Xu, who rewound the video and pushed play again.

The masked figure spoke again, this time their voice sending chills down Selphie’s spine: “People of the world, my friends. This is the first you’ve seen one of us. I know it’s perhaps unnerving, a faceless entity speaking to you from behind a screen. But there is no need for fear. Me, and so many others like me, are bringers of light to all who live in darkness.

“For so many years our world has been contaminated by an organization known to us all by the name of Garden. For some of you, this is a place of good, or learning. For others, it is simply a defense against those who would try to destroy our lives. They defeated the Sorceress Ultimecia, an evil-bringer from the future. But Garden did not mind what they trampled on in their plight to destroy her. It was no Ultimecia who ultimately hurt us: Garden did.

“It is a place of learning, yes. Children are sent when they are very young to be indoctrinated to the way of violence. They are sent to learn destruction. Not to prevent it, no, but to employ it. Those who lived through the war know this. Garden sowed seeds of devastation in our homes, our cities, our people. For what? They care not for leaders and rules and the boundaries; they have become the world police, the world’s army, but working towards only one goal: furthering their own reach, increasing their own power.

“It’s easy to sit by and do nothing, to allow Garden this power. They also sowed fear in the war, and those seeds have grown. You see heroes because they want you to see heroes. The heroes that will always lend a helping hand to those in need, who then believe to own you when they are finished ‘helping’ you.

“But things are changing. A great wave of change is coming, one that even Garden cannot stop. Me and my family have come together from all over this beautiful world to end Garden, to stop its reign of power over the people of this planet. It started in Trabia Garden, as the whole world must know by now. We took its heart, and soon we shall take its other. And then we shall take its soul.

“We are Sanctus, the holy ones who will free this world and break the magical chains upon it. Join us to end this blight. Garden must be cleansed. Let no one else suffer at their hand. This is the holy patch, and the holy patch cannot be hindered.”

The recording paused again, this time with an angry mash of the button by Xu. “I can’t watch it again,” she said.

Someone touched Selphie’s arm and she blinked out of her catatonic state she hadn’t known she’d been in. When she glanced over at Seifer, the only person it could have been, he was gazing intensely at the screen. She ran her hands over her arms and then said, “Is that the only message they’ve sent?”

“So far,” Quistis said, sitting back on the edge of her desk. “It sounds like they’re planning on attacking the other two Gardens as well. We’ll have to be ready.”

“So if one of them’s the heart and one of them’s the soul, which one is which?” Nida asked.

“Balamb’s the soul,” Seifer said.

Everyone looked at him, surprised to hear him speak up.

Seifer ignored that and continued, “Balamb’s the only Garden you can become a SeeD. It’s obvious that’s what these assholes are talking about.”

“I agree,” Xu said, though from her tone, she hated to say those words.

“It _is_ logical,” Quistis said quietly. She pushed off of the desk. “We need to get Squall back here ASAP. Nida, get a message to him. I hope none of you have plans tonight. The briefing can’t wait till tomorrow; the task force is setting out for Trabia tomorrow morning.”

Selphie saluted, her body subconsciously reacting to the authority in Quistis’ voice. Then her hand fell limply to her side. “Do we have time to go to Trabia? What if they’re already on their way to Balamb or Galbadia Gardens?”

“We don’t know what to look for until we thoroughly investigate the bombing at Trabia,” Quistis said. “I know you’ve taken courses on explosives, Selphie; you have an affinity for them. I’ll feel better knowing your eyes have been there.”

In any other situation, Selphie would have grinned, but she was too sickened and angry to. So she just nodded. “Right.”

Quistis looked to Xu. “Meanwhile, we need to gather any information on Sanctus we can, no matter how seemingly unimportant. The more information we have to work with, the sooner we can stop there from being more casualties.”

“Contact Esthar,” Selphie said. “Besides the usual anti-Garden propaganda . . . There was a case I finally wrapped up before I went to Centra. It has to do with Sanctus. We even arrested two people. It shouldn’t be too hard to extradite them.”

Quistis smiled a little and nodded to Xu, who saluted and left the room after Nida. That left just her, Seifer, and Selphie.

“Garden already has advanced security,” Selphie said. “So how’d they sneak a bomb in?”

Quistis gave a heavy sigh. “That’s what concerns me. So if the Gardens increase security even more, do we know if it will do any good? Unfortunately, until we know more, that’s our best recourse. If they had people planted inside Garden already . . .”

_Traitors?_ Selphie tried not to glance at Seifer, but her eyes took her there anyway.

Seifer glanced at _her_ , and the way his eyes narrowed had Selphie wondering if he knew what she was thinking.

“Did Garden really do all that much damage in the war? We were trying to stop Ultimecia. She would have destroyed everything!” Selphie insisted.

“No one is free from being held accountable,” Quistis said. “Without a living entity to pin the destruction on--Ultimecia--it falls to the other major player. It’s unfortunate, but that’s how it is.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and then walked over to a table that held a pitcher of water and some glasses. As she poured herself some, she said, “I’ve tried my best to undo the damage people blame Garden for, but . . .”

Selphie’s eyes lowered then she walked over to Quistis and put a hand on her arm. “It’s not your fault.”

Quistis rested her hand on Selphie’s. “I know, Selphie. Comes with the job, I suppose.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a long swig. When she exhaled, she sounded less stressed, but of course it was only a momentary thing. “I’m glad you’re here, Selphie.”

“Of course,” she said firmly. “There’s nowhere else I should be.” She looked over her shoulder at Seifer, but he was too busy looking at the paused recording, at the masked figure. “Seifer!” she called, and after a moment, he looked over. She gestured for him to come over, and after making an irritated face, he did so.

“Seifer and I will stop them,” Selphie said once he was beside her.

Quistis glanced between the two. “I have no doubts about that.”

  


_Later that day_

  


Everyone came together just as the sun was going down, seated at a long table in Quistis’ office, Quistis at one end, and Seifer on the other. Selphie and Nida were down on Seifer’s end, and Squall and Xu on Quistis’. There were a couple other SeeDs there as well, younger ones that Selphie remembered as junior classmen. It felt strange to see them all grown up now, only seven or eight years younger than her. One of their names was . . . Allas?

Seifer and Squall pointedly avoided each other’s gaze, and Selphie knew this because she was specifically looking for how they’d interact with each other. It seemed like the answer to that was going to be: not at all.

“Everyone in this room has seen the message Sanctus sent this morning,” Quistis started. And when everyone nodded, she put her hands on the table and continued. “I have asked Xu to collect any and all known information regarding this terrorist organization. From what little I have seen, they seem to be behind almost all anti-Garden rhetoric since the end of the war, originating from the city-state of Dollet.”

_Where I had my SeeD exam. We helped them against the Galbadian army!_

Selphie looked over at Seifer and he was shaking his head, probably thinking about that SeeD exam too. That had been the first time she’d seen him since the orphanage days. They’d been complete strangers. But she hadn’t minded him back then, before he joined Ultimecia. His energy and cockiness had been somewhat endearing, and that scar on his face somehow made him more--

Vigorously, she shook her head. _What the heck, Selphie!_ She focused back on the meeting again.

“We’ve sent Esthar City a request to have certain prisoners temporarily transferred to our custody for this investigation,” Quistis was saying. “We haven’t received word back yet, but I expect a reply within the next 24 hours.”

Quistis interlocked her fingers. “As for Garden, both Balamb and Galbadia, Squall and I have outlined new and extra security systems that will be implemented as soon as possible. These systems and the information Xu has gathered on Sanctus is included in the binders in front of you. Now, please note, that these specific documents are for your eyes only and are not to be shared with _anyone_ outside this room.”

After clearing her throat, she continued. “Squall and I will focus our efforts on Balamb Garden, leaving Selphie--” She gestured to Selphie. “--in charge of our mobile task force, known as Balamb Anti-Sanctus Unit, or BASU. She will be backed by Nida and Seifer; they three will have access to any resources necessary to help them achieve their mission, including Garden personnel, excluding any SeeDs currently on a contracted mission. I also grant them free use of _Raganarok_.”

One of the SeeDs raised her hand. “Will Garden be mobile?”

Quistis glanced at Squall and then lifted her chin. “Garden will remain stationed here in the Alcauld Plains for the time being. If there is any change in this matter, you will be notified immediately.”

Another one of the SeeDs spoke up. “Excuse me, Headmistress Trepe, but . . . Are there not any security concerns about the presence of Seifer Almasy on this task force?”

Seifer made an annoyed noise, and Selphie suspected it was because the SeeD was behaving as if Seifer wasn’t sitting only a few seats away. And Selphie herself was a little miffed. If no one trusted Seifer, of course he wouldn't be in the meeting at that very moment. She almost stood up to answer for Quistis, but from the other side of the table, Squall’s eyes locked on Selphie’s and he gave the tiniest shake of his head.

“An honest question,” Quistis said. “But I assure you, Asall--”

_Asall! How could I have forgotten. Well, you know what, actually I don’t mind so much_ now.

“--He has been thoroughly screened before acceptance onto this task force,” Quistis finished. “If you have any further concerns, any of you, then please bring them to me at the conclusion of this meeting. I will be happy to discuss it with you.”

Besides Selphie, Seifer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his face betrayed nothing.

“Now,” Quistis said, moving on as if there had been no awkward interruption about Seifer, “each one of you has been assigned a particular task, which are found in your binders in greater detail. Study the information within thoroughly. The threat that faces us leaves little to no margin for error. All of you were present during the Second Sorceress War, and I’d say this organization may be as great a threat to Garden as Ultimecia was to the world.”

Now everyone shifted uncomfortably.

“Before we start, I’d like to go over some specific information,” Quistis said. “Or rather, Squall will.”

At his cue, Squall got to his feet and stood beside the same screen they’d watched the Sanctus broadcast on. This time, it was a slideshow for the mission. “I didn’t have much time, but this will get the point across well enough.”

Beside her, Selphie noticed Seifer closing his eyes and giving a little shake of his head, a small, sarcastic smile on his face.

And Squall may not have had much time to put the slideshow together, but it was long. They sat in the office for nearly an hour and a half before Quistis dismissed them. As soon as she was out the door, Selphie had her binder open, devouring the first page of information after the mission title page.

“They did all that in six hours?” Seifer remarked, looking at his closed binder as he came to Selphie’s side.

Everyone else filed out after them, Quistis and Squall and Xu deep in conversation. When they had gone down the elevator, leaving just Selphie and Seifer, Selphie snapped her binder closed and stuck it between her arm and torso.

“When Quistis and Xu put their mind to something, they’re unstoppable,” Selphie insisted.

Seifer smirked. “Why aren’t they leading the Hynedamn task force then?”

“Because BASU is ours! You and me--”

“And me!” Nida added. Apparently he had not gone down the elevator with the others.

Selphie blinked. “And you . . . Right. Anyway!” She turned back to Seifer. “We’re gonna kick Sanctus’ ass, make them wish they’d never set foot in my precious Trabia.”

“Right,” Seifer said, raising an eyebrow.

She jerked a thumb at herself. “So, since I’m charge, you should probably call me Boss or something.”

Seifer laughed, actually laughed. It was followed with a sarcastic, “In your dreams, Tilmitt.”

“Tilmitt works just fine, too,” Selphie said with a pleased smile.

Nida just looked at Seifer with huge eyes, expression frozen in place.

“Who the fuck _are_ you, anyway?” Seifer asked, giving him a scathing up-down.

“I’m--” Nida stopped. “Oh, nevermind. I’ll see you two downstairs.” He gave a sad wave and then trudged towards the elevator with drooping head and arms.

Selphie rapped her knuckles against the binder under her arm. “Ready to do some studying before we shove off tomorrow morning? It’d probably go faster if we did it together. I always remember things better when there’s someone studying with me. And I don’t want to study with _Nida_.”

“Wait. Who the fuck is Nida?” Seifer asked.

Selphie lifted a hand to point after Nida, but instead just waved it in the air. “Eh, it’s not important. The real question is will you study with me?”

Seifer narrowed his eyes, like he was really thinking about whether that was a good idea or not. Eventually he sighed and looked away. “Fine. It’s the only way I’m going to actually read any of this shit anyway.”

“Great!” Selphie threw a fist in the air--the wrong one, and her binder fell to the ground with a slap.

She looked down at it and then at Seifer. When she had looked long enough, he said, “I’m not picking it up.” Then he started towards the elevator. “If you really want to study this, you better come now or I’m heading straight to sleep.”

“Hey, now!” she complained, swiping her binder up and running after him.

They chose a spot down in the back of the library where there were only two other students, both absorbed in their own dual study session. Selphie slapped the binder down and then opened it up to the first page she hadn’t read yet. At the top, it read “BASU” so it was the perfect place to start anyway.

“All right!” she said, smooshing a finger into the first sentence. “This is BASU stuff for us.”

Seifer’s brows furrowed, but instead of saying anything, he just looked down at his own binder.

Selphie read out loud for the both of them, making sure her voice stayed between them. Occasionally, she stopped to pound her fist into the table dramatically or make a cutting remark directed at some faceless Sanctus member. Seifer stayed relatively silent during the first few pages until they really started getting into the specifics of the information collected by Xu about Sanctus.

“What the hell kind of people . . .” he muttered.

“And Dollet of all places, I know,” Selphie agreed. “They seemed like such nice people. You know, normally, nice people don’t kill other nice people.”

Seifer looked up.

“Huh, look here,” she said, pointing to another section. “If Esthar extradites those two Sanctus bastards we locked up, then we get to interrogate them for information! I’ve never actually interrogated anyone before, not in an official capacity.” She grinned and kept on reading to herself.

Seifer read out slowly, “Possible recruitment of graduated Garden students . . . Or ex-Garden students.”

“That makes no sense,” Selphie said quietly. “If they’re ex-Garden, then they knew how Garden really is. They’d know Quistis and Squall and Zell and me. They’d know Luna and other people they killed at Trabia. How could someone just do that? They had to have been brainwashed!”

“Brainwashed?” Seifer said.

“Totally. It all makes sense. How else do you become as creepy as that person in the video? No one in their right mind would actually join Sanctus, which means they’re probably rounding people up and brainwashing them to join,” Selphie insisted.

Seifer frowned. “Look, Tilmitt, brainwashing someone isn’t as easy as you make it sound. I would know.”

“That _has_ to be it,” Selphie said. “No one would just betray Garden to a group like that . . .”

He made a face, seemingly disagreeing with her, so she continued reading. “So here’s all the equipment and resources we’ll be starting with. Seems really good. I’m excited to use _Ragnarok_. All for me. Ahhhh.” She sighed dreamily. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Seifer slapped his hands on the table. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

Selphie looked up quickly and blinked. “Huh?”

He looked away a moment then leaned forward, pointing at her. “ _Fun?_ What part of this is supposed to be _fun_? You know what, you’re freaking me out.”

Carefully, she closed her binder. “What? I’m just how I always am. There something wrong with that?”

The two students near them looked over, uncomfortable. Then after whispering to each other, they gathered their things and quickly escaped. For some reason, that made Selphie angry.

“No, that’s _not_ what I said,” Seifer said, making a frustrated noise. “One second you’re ready to just go out and fucking kill them and get revenge for Trabia, and the next you’re just giggling and happy and--” He leaned back in his chair. “ _I don’t know._ Forget I said anything.”

Selphie hands turned to fists. “I’m not . . . I’m . . . I’m fine. Do you expect me to be all depressed all the time or something? I got a job to do. I have people depending on me. I’m not . . .” She got to her feet. “You have no right to judge me!”

Seifer closed his binder with a snap and also got to his feet. “I’ve been judged from day one. You think it’s _tough_ being judged? Well, I hate to be the one to break your little fairy tale, but shit happens in life,” he said quietly, but fiercely. His anger simmered just below the surface, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. “So for your info, I wasn’t _you. I was _asking__ if you were doing okay, but you know what? Never mind.”

Selphie’s mouth opened to speak, but then she closed it.

After a moment, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I just . . . I don’t know how I’m supposed to be . . . I’m . . .” She lifted her head and the tears she’d been holding back came to the surface, glittering around the edges of her eyes. “I don’t want people to be sad because I’m sad. That’s how I’ve always been. Last time Trabia was attacked, everyone tried so hard to cheer me up. Ever since then, I’ve tried to stay positive so they don’t waste so much energy on me, you know? I don’t want to be a burden to people.”

Seifer didn’t look at her, just stared off into the distance with tight shoulders.

“But I’m tired of doing that. It’s exhausting, you know. So I don’t know. I’m trying, okay?” she said fiercely. “That should count for something. You’re the first person I’ve really talked to in years. It’s hard for me to open up. So . . .” She sucked in a huge breath and then deflated and said, “I don’t know.”

She took a few steps towards him. “I just want to stop Sanctus. I don’t want any more of my friends to be hurt because of them. And that includes you too, you know!” She pointed at him, as if in accusation.

Seifer’s eyes lowered.

“I don’t care if you don’t think so,” she said. “That’s the way it is. And I’m sorry if because of that I’m acting weird around you. I’m sorry I’m freaking you out. That’s the last thing I want.”

Seifer sighed and looked over at her.

Selphie took a steadier breath this time and wiped the tears from her eyes. “If you want to study by yourself, I understand.”

Seifer glanced behind her to the table, then back over to the library entrance. He chewed on his lip a little and then whispered, “Fuck,” before sitting down again.

_Huh?_ Selphie turned slowly, hands behind her back. Very carefully, she tiptoed back to her seat and sat down. She just sat there, staring at him. At some point, he must have felt her eyes on him, because he glanced up awkwardly and then looked back at his open binder. When he wasn’t looking, Selphie gave a little smile and opened her own binder.

“Hey, Seifer?” she asked.

He grunted.

“Thanks,” she said.

His fingers gripped one of the pages tightly, wrinkling it, but then he let it fall back gently and he tried to smooth it out. “Maybe _I_ should read for awhile . . .”

 

She looked down at her matching page. “Sounds good.”

  


_The next morning_

  


One night of studying did little for anyone, even Selphie, but she wasn’t too concerned. Despite a slightly rocky sleep, she woke up feeling ready to begin the mission. Her outbursts to Seifer last night had been slightly embarrassing, but when she saw him the next morning as they made their way down the tunnel to _Ragnarok_ , he seemed his usual self, or at least, what she _thought_ was his usual self.

She knew he hated talking about feelings. So did she, if for different reasons. The fact that he hadn’t just walked away seemed like a good sign. They confided in no one but each other. Or, at least, that’s how it was seeming to be. It made sense in a way, because neither of them were burdened by each other’s issues, really. It was mostly just awkward.

It had felt good to get it out, regardless of the circumstances. She’d known she’d been acting a little weird since the announcements of Trabia’s attack. For the past few months, her control had been slipping more and more until now when she was finding it difficult to find any control at all. Last year even, she would never have blown up at Seifer over his words, or whoever had said them. She would have laughed it off somehow, spun it away from her to keep them from worrying.

Quistis and Squall gave them a send-off and then _Ragnaraok_ was flying to Trabia. Seifer stood behind the pilot seat, arms folded, gazing out over the tiny landscape, and Nida was in a chair beside Selphie, eyes alight, looking happy for no particular reason at all.

“How long till we get there?” Nida asked.

“Just under four hours,” Selphie said.

Nida glanced between the two. “You two study up real good last night?”

Seifer said nothing, so answering fell to Selphie. “You know me and studying.” _You know me and everything. Have to if you’ve been floating around by my side for nearly ten years straight. Huh. I don’t know much about you at all except you’re really good at hovering._

“You’re right, I do,” Nida said and looked out the windows again. “Can I give it a go again?”

Selphie’s hand instinctively tightened on the controls. She’d been so looking forward to flying again, and though there was plenty of time for both of them to fly, she was reluctant to give up so soon. “I . . .” She shook her head. “Sure, why not?” She temporarily put it into autopilot, a function she hardly trusted for very long, and then hopped out of the seat.

Nida slid into her seat. “So much better than steering Garden. Thanks, Selphie.”

“No problemo,” Selphie said, putting a hand on the back of his seat.

“I’m really glad you’re with us, Seifer,” Nida said.

At the mention of his name, Seifer made the tiniest of movements. There someone was again, using “glad” and his name in the same sentence. It looked like it was still surprising, even after how friendly and accommodating both Selphie and Nida had been to him.

Nida moved his head slightly in her direction, still keeping his eyes forward. “I almost wish you’d been here to start with. Not to be so frank, but you’ve helped Selphie in the past few months more than I have in the past ten years.”

Selphie’s face grew warm and she pointedly avoided looking at Seifer.

“Is that so?” Seifer replied, his voice completely unreadable. If anything, he sounded a little uninterested, but that seemed wrong.

“Sure, sure. Dr. K assigned me to her--you--way back when. Only way she’d let Selphie--you--out in the field again,” Nida said.

“ _What?_ ” Selphie exclaimed.

Nida winced a little but still continued in a lighthearted tone. “I never told you because I didn’t want you to be angry with me. But, I mean, everything seemed to turn out okay. Especially this year when you came along, Seifer.” He held out a hand as if to gesture to Seifer, though it wasn’t really pointed in his direction.

_So Dr. Kadowaki told Nida. No one else? I hope not. I guess I don’t . . . mind if_ Nida _knows. I mean, he’s Nida. Sneaky move. Humph._

“I’m going to go down below,” Selphie said, still avoiding Seifer’s eyes as she turned around and made her way out of the bridge. As she made her way down to the passenger cabin, she wondered if Seifer and Nida were going to keep talking about her in her absence. Probably not considering Seifer forgot Nida existed outside of ten minutes of being away from him.

_Am I hoping they will?_ She walked over to the far wall of windows and stared out over the unhindered landscape. _Is that why both Dr. Kadowaki and Quistis always insisted on making sure Nida did every mission with me? Why would someone just be fine with that?_ She paused a moment and then pictured several nondescript Nida moments from the past. _Well, I guess I don’t know what else he’d be doing, even if he_ is _a SeeD._

_I guess it’s okay if it was Dr. Kadowaki worrying about me. That’s her job. I haven’t seen her in awhile. Didn’t even stop by to say hello when I came back . . . Well, there’ll be time later. She’s not going anywhere._

_Of course she saw right through me when we had that last talk._

_Did anyone else?_

She pulled her ponytail out and let her uneven hair fall around her shoulders. _Ponytail is definitely a no go. Starting to drive me crazy. Is straight boring? I can’t just do what I’ve always done, because . . . I’m too old for it, right?_

_No one will take me seriously if I keep acting like I always have. They did in Esthar mostly because, well, they have Laguna as their president. They’re kind of used to it there. But everywhere else . . . I gotta change, don’t I? Can’t stay . . . stuck in the same place I’ve always been._

Another image appeared in her mind, the dark void of time compression. She was still there, even now, even if she had been better able to push it to the edges of her mind the past months. Someday she’d finally cast it off, cast off the claws still hanging on her arms and her neck. Someday that grey lump would be gone forever, or at least tiny and small, long since past having any influence, staying more as a reminder.

_And Irvine. I’m still stuck with him, too, aren’t I? Still awkward, and I know it doesn’t have to be like that. I just gotta talk to him, make an effort. Stop avoiding everything._

_That’s what I’ve been doing. Keeping busy, avoiding everything. I thought it was the solution, working nonstop. And I don’t really want to take a break, but I got to do it for the right reasons. Like what I’m doing now. It’s different._

_Everyone’s moved on but me._

_What will happen to Garden? Will I still have it when all this is over?_

_Do I . . . still need Garden? I don’t need Garden to have my friends._

The ocean beneath them passed by quickly, a shimmering blanket of sparkling blue and gold in the nearly-midday sun. They passed over a grouping of fishing boats, and Selphie wondered how Fisherman’s Horizon was doing. She had liked it there, the ocean on all sides and constant gull calls, even if the people were a little standoffish. When the mission ended, maybe she’d visit. Now that she was losing her self-imposed shackles, other places sounded good again.

_I’ve never tried actual fishing. That could be fun. This time I won’t show up in a giant death robot machine._

The doors opened behind her and she turned around, expecting Seifer. The universe did not let her down. He came in rubbing the back of his neck. “He never stops talking,” he complained.

Selphie laughed a little and then looked out the windows again.

“The way he talks about you, you’d think he was in love with you,” he muttered.

“Ha! Nida? In love with me?” Selphie gave a bigger laugh this time.

Seifer gave her an almost chastised look. “What’s so funny about it?”

“Oh, Nida’s not into girls,” Selphie said. _Oh, wait. I guess I know that too? What else do I know about Nida? Huh._

“I guess you would know, spending ten years with him,” Seifer said. “How the hell have you made it this far without going crazy?”

“Ha, well, I mean . . . He’s not actually that bad to be around. I always know I can rely on him, I guess,” Selphie said, the words revelations to her as she was saying them. She’d never really thought about it before, especially since no one talked to her about Nida. “And, I mean, he’s always happy, right? Genuinely happy. That’s kind of nice.”

Seifer smirked. “Yeah, I don’t know. He’s always just _there_. Freaks me out.”

“Well, at least I’m not the only one,” Selphie said.

Seifer’s eyes widened a little, but before he could say anything, Selphie began heading back to the door. “I should go take over again before he gets too comfortable. By the way, you can’t tell him what I said, okay?”

She waved a hand in the air and then both left and escaped. Though, it was nice to have a normal conversation with Seifer about really nothing at all. They were her favorite kinds of conversations.

_Funny it should be about Nida._

_Seifer will probably forget about him in twenty minutes. Ha ha. Calls up to the bridge asking who else is on the ship with us._

Selphie stopped in front of the bridge door. _I’m glad I’m with them. Both of them._

  


_A few hours later_

  


Preceded with a five-note jingle, the intercom came to life and Selphie’s voice announced, “We will be setting down at Trabia Garden in ten minutes! Thank you!”

The door opened almost immediately and Seifer came through. “Thanks for what?”

“I don’t know!” she said. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the terrain ahead. Trabia had always been settled in rather unfriendly territory, what with the snow and the rocks and the mountains, and not to mention the multiple blizzards that blew through every few weeks. Luckily, with spending so much time in Trabia, both as a student and as a SeeD, she had grown immune to the effects. She piloted through the snowy gales, looking for a sign of the Garden.

A moment later, it came into view behind a giant, icy rock formation. Warmth filled Selphie’s heart, spreading to her fingertips and toes. There were few sights to rival this one, the giant citadel in the snow. And after the reconstruction, it looked even more glorious than when she’d been a student there.

Beside her, Seifer’s whole body stiffened. He must have been thinking of how, with his help, this beautiful place had been nearly just a pile of rubble.

As they moved in closer, however, the warmth slowly seeped out of Selphie. There it was, the gaping wound at Trabia’s heart. The headmistress’ office had sat right at the very top of Garden, and despite its heavy shielding, now lay black and bare. They’d only planned for external attacks, not an internal one. It wasn’t the same before at all, but the same feelings overcame Selphie, and her shoulders came forward, her whole body curving inward like a spider about to die.

_It could have been worse. It could have been worse. It’s_ been _worse._

But that didn’t help, not that she was unsurprised by it.

She focused on piloting _Ragnarok_ , and once they got in close enough, the destroyed office was no longer visible. Being out of sight was enough for her to set the ship down securely. Once down, the engine fading to a grumble and then nothing at all, Selphie just sat in her seat, head bowed. The lights in the cabin turned off, and with the light outside, they were both cast into grey.

The door opened and Nida’s footsteps clanked against the floor. “Are you two ready to disembark?”

“We’ll be there in a second. Just wait by the exit ramp,” Seifer said.

“Understood!” Nida said. The door opened and closed, and then it was quiet once again.

Seifer never said anything, just waited by her chair.

She stared down into her lap, eyes heavy with silent tears. Occasionally, a sob racked her body so hard she couldn’t keep still, but at least she never made a noise. Even now, she didn’t want to cry in front of Seifer. She hated crying in front of anyone. And she had already made him bear witness to her tears too many times.

_Everything will be fine. Everyone will be so happy to see you, Selphie._

_Right._

She made tight fists and then let her fingers relax. She used them to wipe away any remaining tears, and once enough time had passed, her head lifted and she got to her feet.

“Ready now?” she asked, as if they’d been waiting for him this whole time.

“Yeah,” he said.

She gave him a longer glance than usual, nodded, and then made her way off the bridge. Nida was waiting by the boarding ramp with his bags, a huge fur-lined winter coat on. Selphie smiled and stopped at his side. “You’re not going to need that once you get inside.”

Seifer finished the trio when he finally joined them, and they all looked out over the snowy ground between them and the Garden entrance.

_Here we go._


	10. Chapter 10

After stepping off the ramp, the trio shuffled down the path towards Trabia Garden. It was cold, as per usual, but to make matters worse, the wind was howling through the mountains, kicking up flurries of snow from the ground. Seifer’s leather jacket did little to obscure the wind—plus, he’d forgotten to zip it up before leaving the shelter of the _Ragnarok_ —and he had a permanent scowl on his face until the very second they walked into the covered archway that marked the entrance to the Garden.

As they walked down the long hallway towards the gates, Seifer studied the back of Selphie’s head. Being here in Trabia and seeing the damage firsthand seemed to have mitigated her eternal cheerfulness, but there was still an extra bounce to her steps that he didn’t think would ever go away. It was just the way she seemed to be all the time. Of course, now that she’d actually let herself _feel_ , he knew that wasn’t entirely the truth. He wondered how many of the others, if any of them at all, knew that little secret she held close to her chest. 

A few seconds later, the other guy piped up beside him. “You know, I don’t really like the cold, but it’s not at the top of my most hated list. I think it’s just because I’m rarely in cold environments, that whenever I come back, it seems worse than the last time. I mean, I grew up in Balamb, and then we were in Esthar for awhile, so . . . It’s kind of a nice change, though!” He trailed off, shrugging out of his gigantic coat before draping it over his arm. 

Selphie didn’t even look back over her shoulder at him or acknowledge that he’d spoken, just kept walking forward. An awkward, tense silence filled the space between the trio, and Seifer looked sidelong at him. As the seconds continued to tick by, the other guy’s expression gradually fell into a discouraged pout. 

Eventually, Seifer got fed up with the silence. In a feigned, disinterested tone, he said, “Oh, yeah?” 

It was a complete cop out as far as conversation starters went, but Hyne, who could stand that kicked puppy look? How in the hell had Selphie survived being around his mopey ass for _ten years?_

As predicted, the guy’s face lit up and he faced Seifer with a wide grin. “Yeah! I mean, it was great here, don’t get me wrong—everyone in this Garden is extremely nice. But I much prefer it in Balamb. It’s just the perfect temperature, and it’s home. You—”

He was interrupted by Selphie pivoting on her heel when they reached the gates, and announcing, “Weeeell, this is it. Welcome to Trabia Garden.” She finished with a dramatic sweep of her arm to the side.

Trabia Garden’s main lobby was entirely different from Balamb Garden’s. There was no fountain or hallways leading out from the center, like the spokes of a wheel. Instead, there was a massive tree directly in the center of the circular room. Up above them, the entire ceiling was glass, allowing the sun’s rays to filter in and give the room a bright, natural glow. 

Seifer’s gaze traveled back down and he noted that, for having just been attacked, the lobby seemed awfully pristine. They must’ve had someone clean up, and he couldn’t help but feel irritated at that. What if they’d inadvertently gotten rid of important evidence?

As he was admiring the decor, Selphie was staring ahead at the tree with a softness in her eyes that he’d yet to see before. When no one said anything for a few seconds, she cleared her throat and pointed up at the tree.

In a quiet voice, she explained, “The tree is new. We actually used to have a fountain like Balamb—but it was much smaller—and this room was all open. But when we all pitched in and rebuilt Trabia, we . . . we said the tree would kind of be _us_ —it would grow, and be nurtured, and one day, it would be great again.” She craned her neck back and stared up at the canopy of leaves. “I think it all worked out.”

Seifer could hear the pride in her voice, and noted the slight tremble at the very end of her sentence. She was proud, yes, but Trabia had been attacked _again_. That was no small thing, not for her or anyone else here, and he clenched his fist at his side. Had this been what he’d destroyed all those years ago? This . . . this sense of home, and belonging, this _love_ that each one of these cadets felt for this place? Disgusted with himself, and angry at Sanctus, he fought to swallow the thick lump in his throat, unable to form a response to her emotional remark.

Beside him, the other guy said, “Yeah, I think it did.”

Selphie smiled at that—the tiniest flash of happiness—before facing them again. “So, I can either give you the tour now, or we can go straight to the—” She paused in mid-sentence, dropping her gaze for a second, before she looked back up. “—to the headmistress’ office. What do you guys wanna do?”

“Well,” the other guy began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was here with you, so I don’t really need a tour. I think we should—”

Seifer glanced up at what he suspected was the skeleton of the office, and looked back down at Selphie. Interrupting the other guy, he stepped up and said, “Office. Why waste time when we can just get right to it?”

Selphie nodded, a single, firm motion. “Got it! Follow me!” 

She twirled around once more and led them through the entrance gates. They made their way across the lobby towards the elevator, and periodically, Selphie would wave at one of the few students who were milling about. He wondered just how many students she was familiar with on a personal level. She seemed like the type who would go out of her way to get to know each cadet, especially on a first-name basis. Hyne, when he was still a cadet, he could’ve cared less about his peers’ names, except for when he was sending them off to detention. 

_Guess that hasn’t really changed, either._

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and the trio ambled into the cramped quarters. After entering a security code into the number pad, Selphie pressed the only other button on the panel. After the doors slid shut with a slight hiss, they were shooting upwards towards the second floor. It was silent in the elevator, aside from muted piano music that was coming from the overhead speakers. A few seconds later, the doors slid open again and they all traipsed out.

From up here, the damage was significantly more noticeable. Like Balamb, the elevator opened up directly to the anterior room—essentially what served as the secretary’s office. Strewn about, all across the carpet, were chunks of drywall and shards of glass. Other pieces of debris were scattered throughout the room, obscuring what little of the carpet wasn’t already covered, and Seifer grit his teeth at the sight. If Sanctus’ goal had been to create chaos and spread death and destruction, they had succeeded.

In the center of the room, a woman with shoulder-length, curly blonde hair was crouched down, frowning at something that looked like a piece of wall decor. At the sound of their footsteps, she glanced up with her frown still permanently in place, until she saw Selphie.

With a gasp, she exclaimed, “Oh, Hyne! Is that really you, Selphie?”

Upon recognizing the woman, Selphie’s face lit up. “Mira!” She bolted towards the woman, and when she reached her, she dove in for a hug, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck. “I’m so so so glad you’re okay!”

The two of them erupted into joyous laughter, tinged with a hint of relief, and Seifer crossed his arms as he watched them with the slightest upturn of his lips. Beside him, the other guy chuckled, and Seifer glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

 _Damn it, what was his name again?_ “Hey,” he said, staring intently at the guy until he faced him. “Who’s she?”

“Mira? She and Selphie have been friends since they were, oh, maybe eleven? Mira was also the Headmistress’ assistant.”

“Huh. So she might know something about what happened.”

The guy tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. “Yeah . . . probably. It’s any wonder how she survived the blast, though. Her desk is all the way over there,” he noted, pointing to the other side of the room.

The desk in question had flipped over during the blast and was now resting on its top—one of the corners had been completely blown off. From the way the double doors leading to the interior office looked, Mira’s desk must’ve been situated just in front of the doors and slightly off to the side to be thrown in that particular direction.

When he faced forward again, he saw that Selphie and Mira were having an animated conversation, though it didn’t appear to be about anything happy. Tears were welling in Mira’s eyes, and Selphie reached up to rub her friend’s upper arm. 

With an impatient sigh, Seifer approached them. “Hey, Selphie, I hate to ruin your guys’ reunion but—”

“But we should start looking around,” Selphie finished for him, glancing back at him before looking at Mira again. “Mira, this is . . . he’s a friend of mine from Balamb.”

Mira rolled her eyes at Selphie before shooting a thinly veiled look of mistrust in Seifer’s direction. “We watched the news during the war, Selphie. Do you think I could forget the guy who destroyed everything we loved the first time around?”

Seifer and Selphie both cringed in unison, and Selphie dropped her gaze to the floor. A few seconds later, she clasped her hands behind her back and met Mira’s gaze again. “I know it’s complicated, but I promise he’s here to help this time. I wouldn’t have brought him if I didn’t trust him.”

Mira crossed her arms as she held Selphie’s gaze. Finally, she conceded with a sigh and looked up at Seifer. “If Selphie trusts you, then I won’t fight her. But it doesn’t mean that I trust you, too.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, turning away to look around the room. “Has anyone else been up here besides you?”

“No. There are only a select few, besides me and Selphie—and of course, Luna—who knew the code. But I’m the first person that’s been up here since . . . since it happened.”

“Were you the one who cleaned up the mess in the lobby, too?” he questioned.

Mira narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re making it sound like I’m being interrogated. Are you questioning me?”

Selphie stepped up with her hands held out in front of her. “Of course he isn’t interrogating you! Are you, Seifer?” she asked derisively, with a heated look in his direction. 

He sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m not questioning anybody.” _Yet._ “I was just asking ‘cuz you might’ve thrown away something useful.”

This time, Mira was the one who shook her head. “I doubt it. It was all basically rubble. I’m sorry that we couldn’t leave it, but . . . there was just no way I could. There was glass all over the ground, and in addition to being unsafe, it—everyone here who was present during the war kind of just . . . it brings up bad memories. So we cleaned it up pretty quickly. But I ordered the crew to leave this floor untouched. I figured whoever came to investigate would want it to stay the way it was just after the explosion.”

Selphie piped up. “That’s exactly what we want, so thanks, Mira. Have _you_ found anything yet?”

“I haven’t really touched anything,” Mira explained as she looked around. “I just came up here to—I don’t really know _why_ I came up here. I know that Luna’s gone, but I guess . . . it was just out of habit. I’m so used to coming up here first thing in the morning and getting my day started, you know?”

Mira’s voice trembled, and Selphie stepped up to hug her friend. Seifer jerked his chin at the upturned desk. “That was your desk, right?”

With a sniffle, Mira pulled back from Selphie. “Y-yeah, it was.”

“Where was it before the bomb went off?”

She walked over to a spot that had less debris than the rest of the room and tapped her foot. “Right here.”

“Okay. We’re gonna keep lookin’ around, but if we need you . . . ?”

“Have Selphie call me. She has my number. I’ll probably stop by and check in with security before I head to my dorm.”

The trio nodded and Mira offered a hesitant smile in Selphie’s direction before she headed towards the elevator. Just after she pressed the call button, Seifer remembered something and turned around.

“Uh, hey?” he called out.

Mira started and looked back over her shoulder at him, a silent question in her eyes. Selphie looked over at Seifer with her brow furrowed in confusion. He ignored her for now, and asked, “You said a ‘select few’ have the code to the second floor?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we get that list?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll get it from security and bring it up to you.”

Without another word, Seifer turned back around and trudged through the debris towards the desk, trying his hardest not to move anything too much. When he reached the desk, he crouched down, inspecting the corner that had been blown off. 

Selphie joined him a few seconds later, and bent over at the waist to stare at whatever it was he was looking at. “See somethin’?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh.”

She leaned forward a bit more and her hair fell over her shoulder, tickling the side of his face. He let out an annoyed grunt and glared over his shoulder her. “And I won’t be able to find anything if you’re hovering over me. It’s a big office, Tilmitt. Go find something else to stare at.”

She wrinkled her nose in offense and straightened, before joining the other guy on the opposite end of the office. Seifer watched her walk away for a few seconds, his expression neutral. When she sidled up to the other guy and they both stared up at a black, chalky stain on the wall, he looked back at the desk.

He’d been rude, and he was perfectly aware of that, but now wasn’t the time for touchy-feely confessions. Their conversation in Balamb Garden’s library the night before had left him . . . disoriented. She’d cried in front of him before, at the orphanage, but it had been different then. It had been about Trabia, and their past, and all of the shit he’d done to a lot of different people. It had been . . . justified. He knew that he’d deserved it, and so he’d let it happen.

The night before, on the other hand, had been Selphie . . . confiding in him? She’d opened up with little to no provocation, had started blubbering about her feelings, and then expected him to say something in return. 

Seifer sighed as he rose to his feet and braced himself, grabbing the lip of the desk to flip it back over. Maybe it was a bit unfair to say that she’d spilled her guts without any provocation—that wasn’t entirely the truth. He _had_ asked what was wrong with her, though it had been driven more by confusion and incredulity than concern. It also wasn’t fair to say that she’d expected him to say something in return. At the end of her emotional tirade, she’d apologized and left the rest of the night up to him, gave him an opening to walk away, so to speak. 

He’d chosen not to. Why? Why did he stick around? Had he _wanted_ to stick around?

With the investigation of Trabia Garden going on, he didn’t want to be bogged down with questions about emotional shit. So, even though he’d felt like a dick for pushing Selphie away, he needed some space—space to focus on what was in front of him, and to try to put his rampant thoughts to rest. 

With the desk finally back on its legs—three now, not four—he reached down and pulled the top drawer out. There wasn’t much in it: a few pencils and pens, a notepad, a ruler. He closed it, disinterested, and pulled the next drawer open. Again, there wasn’t much inside. Nothing seemed to raise any flags, so he closed that drawer, too.

Seifer reached for the third and last drawer, and frowned when he discovered that it was locked. “Hey, Selphie!” he called out, turning around to look for her.

She and the other guy were now standing where Mira’s desk used to be, and she looked up sharply at Seifer’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

It took her a little while to maneuver through the debris, but when she stood right next to him, she looked down at the desk. “Found something?”

“No, not yet. The last drawer is locked. Happen to know where she kept her key?”

Selphie pursed her lips. “I’ve never bothered to ask her, and it’s been a few years since I’ve been here on the daily. Why do you wanna get in there?”

“We’re supposed to be checking _everything_ in the office, yeah?”

“Well, sure, but . . . this is Mira’s desk, isn’t it?” She stared up at him with wide eyes, and Seifer broke eye contact, unsure of what to say to that.

“Yeah, it is.”

“So . . . it should be okay.”

“And I’m sure it is. But we won’t know that until we can look inside the drawer, yeah?”

She frowned, and he moved to reach out to her before stopping himself in mid-air. His arm fell back to his side. “Look, I’m sure she’s clean. But we’re supposed to be findin’ clues, and we’re kind of on a time crunch before Sanctus makes their next move. The faster I get into this drawer and make sure your friend is good, the faster we can move on. You’re a SeeD. You’ve gotta know that’s the case.”

Her head dropped ever-so-slightly, before she straightened and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I know you’re right. I was just—” She broke off to take a deep breath, and on the exhale, she turned around. “Hey, Nida! Come here a sec?”

 _Nida,_ that’s _his name. Fuck, it shouldn’t be that hard to remember._

Nida jogged over to join them and Selphie pointed at the drawer. “Think you can open this?”

“Do you specialize in picking locks?” Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice full of doubt.

“Yeah, I spent a whole semester with Instructor Aki on the ‘art of lockpicking’—or at least, that’s what he called it. I got a certification when I made SeeD.”

“You did?” Selphie asked, leaning back in surprise.

“I thought you knew that,” Nida said as he crouched down in front of the drawer. From his inner breast pocket, he pulled out a small kit that contained various tools, some with teeth, some without, and flipped through the options until he settled on one. He fiddled around in the tiny lock for a few seconds until a click was heard. “There! Got it!”

“Huh,” Seifer mumbled, actually impressed, though he’d never verbalise it. “How about that?”

“Yeah, it was no problem!” Nida said with a small wave of his hand. He scurried back over to the other end of the office, leaving Selphie and Seifer at the desk.

The two of them stood there, staring at the drawer in silence. Neither one seemed to want to be the one who opened it, but they both knew it had to happen. A few tense seconds later, Seifer finally bent over and muttered, “What the hell,” before yanking it open.

To his surprise, the drawer was an absolute mess. The other two had been relatively organized, though thrown into disarray when the desk had flipped over. Most assistants or secretaries seemed to be relatively organized, or at least, that had always been his impression of them. This drawer was the farthest thing from what he’d expected it to be.

“Woah . . . uh,” Selphie said as she crouched down beside the open drawer. She stuck her hand into the chaotic mess, shifting some papers around in an attempt to find a good starting place. “She’s not usually this disorganized?”

“Are you asking me that?”

“Huh?” She looked up at him sharply, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“You made it sound like a question. Never mind,” he said, joining her on the ground. “You know what? Let’s just—” He pulled the drawer completely out and got to his feet, dumping the contents out on the top of the desk. “You can take that half.”

Selphie shuffled to the opposite end of the desk, shaking her head in disbelief. “How did she ever find anything in this?”

“I’m gonna guess she didn’t look in this drawer much. I mean, shit, how could _anyone_ find anything in this mess.”

“Good point.”

They fell silent, both of them concentrating on sorting through the contents of the drawer. Seifer placed each loose leaf of paper in a separate pile, and put random odds and ends in other smaller piles above where he was working. There was a plastic-sleeved planner resting on top of another pile of papers, and he set it aside for later. Once he’d moved it, he glanced back at the larger pile and furrowed his brow when he noticed that the planner had been covering a small, velvet box.

“The hell?” he mumbled. After setting the journal aside, he grabbed the box and shook it. Something tiny shuffled around inside it—an earring, or something?

When he opened it, he realized it was a pin, not an earring. It was of a crest that looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. One edge of the symbol was curved, and the center of the crest had a long, curled line that ended in an upward swipe. He tilted his head to the side before straightening it once more. Eventually, he gave up on trying to figure it out and looked up at Selphie. 

“Does your friend wear a lot of pins?”

She looked up from the paper she’d been reading, eyes wide with confusion. “Pins?”

“Yeah, like this one.” He held it up, pinched between his thumb and his forefinger.

Selphie narrowed her eyes as she tried to see from across the table. With a huff, she set the paper down and walked over to stand beside him. After peering at it for a second, she reached up and grabbed it from him. “I’ve seen this before . . .”

“Yeah, so have I, but I can’t remember where.”

She continued to stare it for a few seconds, turning it one way, and then the other, before she dropped her hand. “Ugh, I can’t remember. Save it? We can ask Mira about it later.”

“Nah, I’ll hang onto it. I can just look it up,” Seifer offered, placing the pin back into its box and stuffing it into his pocket. 

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything else, just walked back over to the other end of the desk. “I don’t see anything in my pile that’s worth asking about.”

“Yeah, pin aside, I don’t either. Let’s go see how . . . he’s doing,” he suggested, tilting his chin in the other guy’s direction.

“Nida?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You—” Selphie broke off with an amused shake of her head. “Yeah, let’s go ask him.” 

They traipsed across the room together and approached Nida, who was back to studying the black mark on the wall. He was pointing at it, and drawing lines in the air with his finger as he turned around, facing the doors to the interior office before looking back at the wall. 

“You onto something?” Selphie questioned.

“I think . . . I think if the desk was here—” He hopped over to the relatively clear spot on the floor where Mira had said her desk had been before the blast. “—and that mark is _there_ . . .”

“I take it that’s a yes,” Seifer mumbled, crossing his arms as he watched Nida move around the room. In a louder voice, he asked, “Are you an explosives expert, too?”

“Ooh, no! That would be me,” Selphie piped up.

Nida went to speak, but Seifer turned away from him and faced Selphie instead. “Oh, that’s right. Why does that not surprise me?”

She let out a sheepish chuckle, before pivoting on her heel and making her way towards the door. “I think I’m gonna go ask the security guys that Mira mentioned for that list of people who have the code. She said she was gonna bring it back, but she never did.”

“I’m sure she got hung up somewhere,” he replied, watching Nida as he worked.

Leaning around Seifer, Nida called out, “I can investigate the office! I think I might have found a lead anyway, and I want to make sure that I get all the evidence I need. Selphie, you should probably look at it, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back! I’m just gonna grab the list!” she called out over her shoulder.

Before either of them could protest, she stepped into the elevator with a tiny wave, and the doors slid shut. Nida walked away, presumably heading for the interior office, but Seifer remained in place, staring at the elevator doors. 

He couldn’t get the symbol on the pin out of his head, and it was starting to drive him crazy. He knew that he’d seen it before, but no matter how much he tried to rack his memories, he couldn’t figure it out. Selphie wanted to ask Mira outright, and in any other situation, he’d agree that that was the most sensible course of action. It was her pin, found in her desk—wouldn’t she know the answer? But he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad idea. Selphie trusted her friend beyond a doubt, and he could understand that, but this was an investigation. Shouldn’t they leave all avenues open?

Eventually, he followed Nida’s path into the interior office—or what little was left of it. The center of the room had sunken in slightly, and most of the concrete that had formed the foundation of the second floor had cracks running through it. Around the epicenter, the same chalky black powder that had been on the wall in the outer office coated the floor. 

When he stepped farther into the room, Nida’s voice called out to him from his right. “Hey, watch your step. The center of the room isn’t very stable right now.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Seifer replied, his gaze trained on the small crater. “Find anything yet?”

“Well, I haven’t been looking very long, but . . . so the Headmistress—Luna—had her desk right where the explosion originated,” Nida explained, pointing at the sunken floor. “When it occurred, the desk was blown off the floor and flew back, out the glass window, and down into the lobby.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying that must’ve been for anyone downstairs.” They fell silent, and Nida cleared his throat before he continued. “Anyway, Luna had to have been sitting at her desk when the explosion happened.”

“Double shit. So . . . did she—I mean . . .”

“Mira probably had the crew remove her . . . remains . . . before we got here.”

“At least Selphie didn’t have to see that,” Seifer murmured, moving along the perimeter of the room.

Across the way, Nida nodded with a grim expression. “From the patterns and radius of the powder, and judging by the way the furniture in the outer office flew post-explosion, I’d guess that the bomb was originally placed closer to the window.”

“You guess?”

“Well, I’m not a bomb expert, Selphie is. That’s just my assessment, and it’s not as accurate as we need it to be. So I’d really rather have her look at the scene, too.”

“How far is the security team from here?”

“The main office is basically that booth at the front gate,” Nida explained with a nervous chuckle. “But, as you noticed on our way in, it was empty. She probably went to go find Mira herself, or went to hunt down the guy in his dorm or something.”

Seifer grunted in response, staring out the shattered window. The headmistress’ office was level with the top of the “Tree of Hope”, or whatever Selphie had been trying to describe it as, and he watched the leaves sway in the artificial breeze.

The next few minutes ticked by in silence as Seifer and Nida continued to investigate the office, waiting for Selphie to return. When nearly an hour had passed, Seifer straightened and stared over at the doors with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s been a little long? I mean, this Garden ain’t that big. How hard is it to find one guy?”

Nida straightened with a frown on his face. “It has been awhile since she left . . . maybe she and Mira ended up catching up about stuff? It has been a few years since we left Trabia.”

“Think she could’ve called to tell us that?” he asked, though not to Nida in particular.

“It’s Selphie,” Nida said with a shrug. “She probably just forgot. Or she—never mind.”

“She what?” Seifer asked, looking at Nida sharply.

The brunet let out a long, weary sigh, before facing Seifer head-on. “Don’t you ever worry about her?”

“ _Worry_ about her? She’s not a kid, she’s perfectly capable of takin’ care of herself.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if she can, though. I mean, technically speaking, yes. But sometimes . . .”

“Haven’t you guys been trekking across the world together for the past ten years? You should know her by now,” Seifer replied, leaning against the remnants of a short bookshelf.

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m worried. I know she doesn’t like to talk about it, or even really acknowledge that it exists, but . . . she kind of has a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Seifer crossed his arms, irritated that he even had to needle it out of the guy. _Can’t he just spit it out?_

“Well . . . she drinks. A lot.”

“And how much is that exactly? ‘A lot’ to you is probably a helluva lot different than ‘a lot’ to me.”

“As in every single day, almost. Any time she hears bad news, or is out at a restaurant, or if a bottle is in front of her, she drinks it. It’s been this way for pretty much the entire past decade.”

“Maybe she just likes to relax, and you’re making it out to be a big deal when it isn’t,” Seifer replied, turning away from Nida.

Though, it _was_ a little worrisome. Speaking from experience, he knew how easy it was to reach for the bottle when things seemed too overwhelming, or there was just too much going on in his brain. From what Selphie had made it sound like last night . . . she wasn’t in too different of a headspace. Maybe the guy wasn’t too far off.

Behind him, Nida sighed, sounding a little frustrated. “I don’t think I am, though. I care about Selphie, too, you know. She’s been a good friend, and it’s basically been just the two of us for the past ten years. I wouldn’t say anything if I wasn’t really worried. I thought you would’ve cared a little more.”

 _Well if that isn’t the greatest guilt-trip, I don’t know what is._ Seifer straightened with a sigh of his own, and faced Nida again. “Fine. What has you so convinced it’s an actual problem and not just . . . I don’t know, her drinking for the hell of it?”

Nida turned and set down a charred object he’d been holding, before looking back at Seifer. “Well, for starters, when she drinks to excess, she doesn’t remember.”

“So she had a lot of good nights. Sounds pretty normal.”

“Yeah, but it’s happened so often, that when it becomes the norm, that’s when I worry. Like, there was one time in Esthar when we went out to a restaurant because _President Laguna_ was worried about her.” 

“And?” Seifer prompted.

“Uh . . . she drank, a lot, and passed out. I had to carry her back to the Presidential Palace, and the next morning, she didn’t remember a thing about what had happened. She didn’t even _care_.”

“Huh.”

“It happens all the time!”

“Okay, okay, I get it. _Maybe_ she has a problem. I’m not exactly the best person to be tellin’ her to stop, though, so I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“I just . . . I don’t know. You could help me keep an eye on her? Maybe talk to her?”

Seifer scoffed, turning away again as he said, “Yeah, talk to Selphie. Sounds like a walk in the park.”

Nida sighed once more, though this time it sounded more defeated, and Seifer heard him shuffle around on the other side of the room. Neither one of them said anything else, and the silence expanded to fill the entire room, almost oppressive in nature. Then, a few more minutes passed, and his mind started churning up old thoughts, mixed with some new ones. Mostly about the conversation he and Nida had just had. 

He hated people meddling in his business, so he tried his hardest not to do the very same thing to others. Hell, he couldn’t even stand it when Raijin and Fujin had done it, and they’d been his best friends—family, even. Walking up to Selphie and saying, “Hey, sounds like you might be an alcoholic!” sounded like an absolutely terrible idea—likely the worst he would ever have in his entire life. Still, Nida had sounded extremely worried, and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t the slightest bit worried, too. Speaking from experience and all. 

_Hyne, if Amma hadn’t stepped in and forced me to quit cold turkey . . . where the hell would I be?_

Fifteen minutes passed before Seifer decided he’d had enough. He rose to his feet with a determined set to his jaw, and looked over his shoulder at— _Shit, I forgot his name already. Hynedamnit._

“I’m gonna go check up on her. If I can find her, that is,” he announced to the room, knowing the other guy would have to turn around.

“Okay. Let me know how she’s doing.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied absentmindedly as he made his way out of the room and back towards the elevator.

He rode back down to the main floor with his arms crossed and his head bowed, lost in thought. _If I were Messenger Girl, where the hell would I go? If it were Chickenwuss, I’d say the cafeteria, but Trabia’s hot dogs probably aren’t that good, anyway. Wasn’t she part of some committee? Something to do with parties, or some shit?_

When he reached the first floor, the doors slid open and he ambled out into the lobby, looking around for a directory. It was over on the other side of the tree, and he made his way to the opposite end of the room. 

According to the map, Trabia Garden was significantly smaller than Balamb—which he already knew. She likely wouldn’t have gone to the dorms without them, and he’d already crossed off the cafeteria. It wasn’t exactly prime time for studying, being in the middle of an investigation and all, so he doubted she was in the library. That left the classrooms and the quad.

 _Quad, quad . . . isn’t that where the Garden Festival is usually held? Ugh, what a joke._ Seifer turned away from the directory, deciding that maybe he’d start in the library anyway, until something made him look back at the map. _Quad . . . festival . . . damn it, that’s it! She was on the Garden Festival Committee! Always sending us those Hynedamned emails about joining or donating to the streamer fund._

Filled with renewed purpose, Seifer pivoted on his heel and beelined for the quad. It was getting to be later in the day, and the hallway leading to the quad was practically deserted. He only passed one other student, and they barely noticed him as he sped past. It was strange not being recognized, but the cadet had looked rather young, and if Mira and Selphie had known each other since they were pre-teens, Mira had to have been close to their age. Most of the students at Balamb recognized him, but Quistis had probably made sure to integrate him into their lessons. He could picture her pointing at the board with one of those metal stick things, and drilling a motto into every cadet: “Don’t be like this guy!” 

He doubted they talked about him here, if at all. Probably preferred to shelf his ugly mug as part of the past for good.

A few minutes later, he jogged into the quad, scanning the room for any sign of a 5’2” brunette with extra spunk. She had to be bouncing around here somewhere, he mused. The circular room stretched upwards seemingly forever, capped with a glass dome roof to match the lobby. It was just before sunset, and the transparent ceiling was awash with streaks of burnt orange and russet, tinged on the undersides with lavender and gold. It was a view he expected Selphie to appreciate. 

He tilted his head back down and walked farther into the room, making his way around one of the many trees planted along the marble pathway. A metal railing curved around the perimeter of the space, arcing along until it disappeared behind a stone column that was similar to the ones at the orphanage. Aside from an unoccupied stage that rested against the far wall, flanked by another pair of columns, the quad was empty.

Surprised, and also disappointed that he hadn’t found her here, Seifer started to head back towards the hallway when he heard something from across the room. He paused in mid-step and turned around, squinting as he tried to catch sight of whatever had made the noise. It happened again—glass falling onto the marble floor? 

Slowly, so that he wouldn’t make too much noise, he made his way over to the source of the sound. He moved past the stage and realized that the railing actually curved _beyond_ the column—the room didn’t end there, like he’d originally thought. A hiccup carried through the air, and when he heard faint mumbling soon after, he knew that he’d found her. When he reached the column, he leaned against it to brace himself so that he could peer around the corner. Lo and behold, tucked into the tiniest alcove he’d ever seen, was Selphie.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he called out.

Selphie jumped, back ramrod straight, and quickly twisted around as she clutched something close to her chest. “Oh Hyne, it’s _you_. Sheesh, since when has it been okay to just sneak up on people?”

“Sorry, thought you heard me coming.” A lie. He’d been walking quietly on purpose, specifically to sneak up on her.

Now that she recognized him, she reached out and placed a tall, clear glass bottle back down on the ground next to her. Seifer glanced at it, noting that what Nida had said was true, before looking back at Selphie. 

“Isn’t drinking on the job—” He made quotation marks in the air. “—‘frowned upon’?”

“Well, I mean, technically this isn’t the ‘job’. We’re not on a contract, right? And you’re not a SeeD! So if anyone asks, the bottle is yours.”

He scoffed and said, “Thanks for throwing me under the bus.” He sat down beside the column and draped his legs over the edge. “But, uh, I’ve already been there and done that, so . . .”

“Wait, seriously?” Selphie looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a long time since, but . . . it happened.”

“When?”

“Right after . . . shit went down. I lived in Balamb with Fujin and Raijin and . . . every time I had a shitty day, or a shitty night, I’d grab a bottle. When I moved to Winhill and didn’t have them to nag me every second of every fuckin’ day, it got worse.”

“Wooooow. That’s pretty rough. But you don’t—you know. I mean, it’s not a problem anymore?”

“This little old lady forced me to quit a year after I got to town, after she found me passed out in front of her shop. So, no, not a problem anymore.” He paused and looked pointedly down at the bottle between them, before looking up at her. “Is it a problem for _you_?”

Selphie slapped her forehead suddenly, before pointing at him. “Holy Hyne! I made you share that bottle of brandy with me at the orphanage! Ugh, I’m such a jerk!”

 _Nice change of topic, Tilmitt_. He waved his hand through the air. “It’s fine.”

“That’s what everyone says when it’s not actually fine.”

“Selphie, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I could handle it. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

She cringed and looked away. “Caught that, huh?” she asked with a sigh. “It—I don’t think—It’s not a problem.”

Seifer leaned forward so he could stare directly at her. A few seconds later, under the heat of his gaze, she reluctantly faced him again. “That’s what everyone who has a problem says when someone asks them if they have a problem.”

Her face twisted up in annoyance. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be a buzzkill?”

A laugh escaped him before he even realized what had happened. That was the second time she’d said something of a similar nature to him. “Uh, no. But I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. Why, am I killin’ your buzz now?”

“Yeah, actually, though I’ll forgive you since you laughed at my joke.”

“Well, consider it a favor then. You’ve drunk nearly half the bottle,” he said as he grabbed the bottle and placed it on the other side of him, out of her reach.

Again, she sneered at him, though he could tell it wasn’t out of actual malice. She turned away from him, staring out the windows across the way at the Trabian landscape. The sun had set by now, and everything in the room was tinted periwinkle blue. In a few more minutes, thanks to the glass ceiling, the quad would be washed in the pale, magical light of the moon. 

After a few seconds of silence, he looked back over at Selphie, who was still facing the windows. “So.”

Attention grabbed, she looked over at him. “So?”

“You’ve been drinking. People usually drink when they’ve got shit on their mind.”

With a slight roll of her eyes, she looked away again. “Who _doesn’t_ have stuff on their mind?”

“Okay, that’s fair, but I don’t give a damn about them. I’m asking about you.”

The corner of her lips twitched upwards, and she faced him with a sly look on her face. “Does Seifer Almasy actually want to talk about _feelings_?”

“Don’t.”

She shifted in place, seemingly pleased with herself, before she shook her head, smile still firmly in place. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” she said in a soft voice.

“Didn’t you just tell me last night that you can’t hold it in forever, and that you’re trying? So go on. Try.”

With a suspicious look on her face, she stared at him in silence. He waved his hand in the air as he said, “You’ve already cried on me once.”

“I didn’t cry on you. I was standing in _front_ of you. Totally different.”

“Tilmitt, you’re stalling. Talk.”

With a faraway look in her eyes, she started to shake her head, only to stop herself after leaning to one side. She remained silent for so long that Seifer thought she wasn’t going to say anything at all, until she rested her head against the wall behind her and craned her neck back in his direction. 

“Luna, Mira, and I were all in the same class, you know?”

He went to tell her that, no, he hadn’t known that, but sensing that she might just stop talking if he interrupted her, he changed his mind at the last second and just shook his head. As he’d suspected, she continued speaking after tilting her head back onto her other shoulder and looked away from him again.

“They were the first friends I made when I got here. I was sitting alone at lunch on like, my third day, and they just came over and sat down next to me, like it was no big deal. It sounds stupid and probably like something a little kid would say, but . . . we were inseparable after that, you know? We took the same classes, year after year, and it wasn’t until I left for Balamb that we were apart for more than a few days at a time.”

Selphie’s memory reminded Seifer of Fujin and Raijin. For him, it had been much the same. He and Squall were the only ones who hadn’t been adopted from the orphanage, and Cid and Edea had dragged them along when they left Centra for the island of Balamb to start Garden up. He’d been an angry kid, and an even angrier teenager, and Fujin and Raijin had been the only ones brave enough to start up a conversation with him—ironically, also in the cafeteria. 

Strange to discover that he and Selphie weren’t actually all that different.

She took a deep breath before continuing her story. “So . . . yeah, I left to take the SeeD exam at Balamb, Mira left to study abroad for a year in . . . I think Dollet, and Luna continued on to take more classes at higher levels. Huh, I guess now I know that she did so because she wanted to be headmistress.”

“Ambitious friends.”

“Yeah,” Selphie agreed with a fond smile. “They were.”

Seifer looked away from her and leaned his head back against the stone column. “So you’re drinking to forget.”

“No, that’s not it at _all_ ,” Selphie replied, defensive. “I’m drinking to _remember_. Every time I get drunk it’s like, this floodgate opens and all of these memories come streaming in—especially being here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Luna—since I’ve seen anyone that I care about, really—and I’m stuck in this awful, awkward place where I wish I could forget, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to. All I can do is remember.”

He stared off out the window as he said, “Goes either way for people, it seems.”

“I guess.” Out of nowhere, Selphie gasped loudly, shooting to her feet with wide eyes. “Holy Hyne! If Sanctus targets Galbadia, Irvine is _there_! What if he—”

“Calm the fuck down, Tilmitt. You shouting about it isn’t going to do any good,” he said to her, craning his neck back.

“Yeah, but—”

“All right, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Seifer told her, rising to his feet as well. “The best thing to do is to finish lookin’ around here, and find out as much as we can. I’m sure Quistis has already told the cowboy what’s going on, and Galbadia is our next stop anyway. As soon as you look at the site of the explosion and use your . . . bomb expertise or whatever, the sooner we can go ‘save’ him.”

Selphie sniffled, obviously still worried. “I know you’re right, but . . . I can’t help but worry—about everyone. After what happened to Trabia, and Luna, I just want to make sure no one else I care about gets hurt. Or worse. Not you, not Mira, especially not Irvine or Quistis. _Anyone_.”

“So sober the fuck up so you can go investigate.”

Her eyes slid shut as she took a deep breath. It was shaky, but at least she was making an effort. When she opened her eyes again, they were glassy with unshed tears, but she looked more determined than he’d seen her all day. “Yeah. Got it,” she stated, saluting him.

“Don’t do that. I’m not a SeeD and I sure as hell ain’t in charge of you.”

“Oh, right. But you sounded so authoritative just then, and—I dunno, maybe you should talk to Quisty about it! I think you’d make a great SeeD, and then—”

“Stopping you for the second time tonight. Go get some sleep, Tilmitt.”

“Roger that!”

“I told you not to _do_ that.”

“Ugh, sorry!”

  


_The next morning_

  


Seifer and Selphie stepped out of the elevator and onto what remained of the second floor. Together, they headed for the interior office, but just before they passed through the double doors, Seifer paused in mid-step and glanced over at the upturned desk one more time.

“Hey, you go in first. I’m just gonna make sure I didn’t miss anything out here,” he explained to Selphie. She nodded in agreement before disappearing into the next room.

Carefully, he made his way over to Mira’s desk, avoiding the debris in his path. When he stood over the desk, he crossed his arms and stared down at the neat piles of potential evidence that he’d separated from the mess the day before. Most of it was the loose leafs of paper that he’d already read through, but when he shuffled the piles around, he noticed the corner of something bright and slightly shiny peeking out from underneath another pile. When he pulled it out, he saw that it was Mira’s planner that he’d found on top of the stuff in the drawer. He’d completely forgotten about it, since the rest of the drawer’s contents had been dumped on top of it.

Figuring it couldn’t hurt to glance through it before he joined back up with Selphie, he bent the planner in his hand and used his thumb to flip through the pages. Nothing in particular caught his eye and he went to close it again, when he noticed an acronym on a page towards the beginning: S.T.U. 

_S.T.U.? There’s no academy that uses that acronym, and if Mira is a Trabia Garden employee, then wouldn’t she be using T.G.? Or something along those lines? Who the hell, or what the hell, is S.T.U.?_

Stumped, Seifer flipped through a few of the pages before and after where he’d found the acronym, noticing that it appeared a few more times at regular intervals. A bookmark fell out of the planner when he spread the pages open wider, and he furrowed his brows in confusion. After picking it up, he inspected the face of the bookmark, surprised to find that he recognized the symbol on the cover: it was the same as the symbol on the pin that they’d also found in the desk.

 _Second time this thing has shown up. It’s gotta mean something._ He closed the planner with a snap and tucked it under his arm before heading into the interior office. Maybe Selphie had discovered something when she’d talked to Mira the night before. 

To his surprise, when he walked into the office, Selphie and the other guy were deep in conversation. _When did he get here?_

They both looked up when they heard his footsteps, and when Selphie dropped her gaze to the floor before looking away from him, his frown deepened. “What?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, staring at the spot where the other guy had said Luna’s desk used to be.

“Yeah, nothing my ass. What did you find?” he questioned, sidling up to her.

She didn’t respond, just kept staring at the floor. The other guy took a step forward, and in a somber voice, explained, “Selphie determined that the bomb was placed in . . . in Luna’s desk drawer. The second she opened it, it triggered the explosion.”

“Fuck,” Seifer mumbled.

“Yeah. Since the blast originated here—” He moved over to a spot slightly to the left of the radius. “—and the desk flew through the window there—” He pointed up at the shattered glass behind him. “—it seems like we’re both on the same page as to how and where the explosion started.”

At that, Seifer glanced sidelong at Selphie. She was still looking at the floor with a pained expression on her face, arms wrapped around her tiny frame as if to shelter herself from the news. He grit his teeth and decided to change the subject.

“I might’ve found something, too.”

“Oh?” The other guy moved to his side, and to his surprise, Selphie did, too—though she didn’t say anything.

After another glance in her direction, Seifer pulled out the planner from under his arm. “There’s this weird acronym in Mira’s planner: ‘S.T.U.’? Ring a bell with either one of you?”

Selphie shook her head, and the other guy said, “No, it doesn’t.”

Seifer grunted and pulled the bookmark out of where he’d stuffed it back into the planner and held it out. “This bookmark fell out when I was lookin’ through this—it’s the same symbol as that pin we found yesterday, Tilmitt.”

Selphie cinched her brows together, seemingly displeased with that revelation. The other guy said, “Oh, that’s the crest for the Dollet Dukedom.”

Selphie and Seifer glanced up at him sharply, and in unison, asked, “What?”

“Yeah, you guys don’t recognize it? We had to take a class on world history and politics, remember? That’s Dollet’s crest. It’s all over their flags and stuff.”

“ _Dollet_?” Selphie echoed.

Seifer turned to her and said, “You did say that Mira studied abroad in Dollet. Does she go back a lot?”

“As far as I can remember, I don’t think so. I mean, she had that year-long study abroad program, and then after that . . . she took vacations to visit her family and stuff. Maybe they still live there?”

In a quiet voice, Seifer suggested, “I’m thinking it might be time to ask her. I mean, Sanctus originated in Dollet.”

At his words, Selphie immediately reeled back. “Mira isn’t Sanctus, Seifer.”

 _I knew she’d take it that way._ “And I’m not saying she is. Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. If she is innocent, maybe she knows something useful about them or remembers seeing stuff around town. But we’ve gotta prove it either way.”

The other guy nodded. “I hate to say it because I know how close you guys are, Selphie, but . . . I think Seifer is right. There’s nothing wrong with having family in Dollet, or even visiting every year, but if Sanctus’ HQ is in Dollet . . . and Mira is one of the only people who have access to Luna’s office . . . it seems like too much of a coincidence to just ignore.”

Selphie stepped away from them, and wandered over to stare out the broken window. Her gaze remained locked on the tree in the lobby below as the minutes ticked past. Though Seifer could see the other guy looking back and forth between the two of them, obviously concerned, he kept his eyes trained on Selphie. Every so often, she’d take an extra deep breath and her shoulders would shake ever-so-slightly as her head drooped lower. Then, she’d look back up, and the cycle would start all over again.

Finally, after what felt like years, Selphie faced them once more. Her expression was grim, though determined, and she nodded. “You guys are right. I won’t feel okay until we at least cross her off the list for sure, and we can’t do that unless we talk to her.”

Seifer nodded as well, holding her gaze. After taking yet another deep breath, Selphie said, “Let’s go find Mira.”

  


_Two hours later_

  


“I’m not gonna lie, Tilmitt. Considering we’ve looked all over this place and haven’t found her, it’s not lookin’ good for your friend.”

Selphie shook her head, but it seemed more like she was trying to convince herself of something than disagreeing with Seifer. “I just don’t get where she’d go! We told her we were investigating the office, and she said she’d be around. Why would she just up and leave when she _knows_ we might’ve needed her?”

Seifer and the other guy shared a loaded look behind her back as she led them into the cafeteria for the third time. With a furrowed brow, the other guy cleared his throat to get Selphie’s attention. 

When she turned around, he asked, “Do you guys have a garage like Balamb does? Maybe she took a car somewhere and we can check the logs.”

“Yeah, we do. It’s out past the basketball court,” Selphie replied in a hurry, before sprinting off in the opposite direction.

The three of them made their way down a short hallway that led outside to the court. Selphie led them across the snow-covered asphalt and through a chain link fence, towards a small building that looked like a plane hangar. Selphie skidded to a halt in front of the door and quickly punched in the security code. Once the door clicked, she pushed it open and the automatic overhead lights flickered on.

Halfway into the driver’s seat of an official Garden vehicle, flashlight in hand, was Mira. 

“Hey, stop!” the other guy shouted, hurrying across the expansive room.

Mira glanced up at the sound of his voice, and tried to quickly shut the car door behind her. The other guy managed to catch the door in time, and pulled her out of the vehicle. By the time Selphie and Seifer caught up to them, he had Mira pressed up against the outside of the car with her hands held behind her back.

“Selphie? What—What the heck is this guy doing?” Mira exclaimed with her cheek pressed up against metal.

“Why did you try to run, Mira?” Selphie asked in a surprisingly soft voice, though she was slightly out of breath. Seifer had never heard her sound so dejected, so quiet, and it was a little eerie.

“I’m not running! I-I had a contract come in, and—”

“And you didn’t answer any of my calls in the past two hours, when you knew we were looking at Luna’s office! Don’t lie to me!” Selphie shouted.

Seifer stepped up and placed his hand on Selphie’s shoulder, and she rounded on him with blazing eyes. He took a step back and held his hands up in a mollifying gesture. “Hey, I’m on your side, Tilmitt. Just . . . let us talk to her, okay?”

“I have every right to talk to her!”

“I’m not sayin’ you don’t. But shit gets tough when it’s personal. Trust me, I know. Let’s just . . . let’s at least go somewhere where we can question her, okay?”

All at once, whatever had been driving Selphie seemed to drain out of her. After she gave the slightest of nods, the other guy pulled Mira away from the vehicle and the group headed for the door. 

Just before Seifer reached out to pull it open, Selphie called out, “Wait.”

With his hand in mid-air, Seifer looked over his shoulder at her. She was standing a foot or so behind them with her hands clenched at her sides. When she saw that he’d turned around, she gestured behind her to the empty space in the center of the hangar. “No one comes out to the bay. If we’re going to interrogate her, this would be a good place to do it and not be disturbed.”

Mira looked between Seifer and Selphie, and tried to wiggle out of the other guy’s grasp. “Interrogate? Seriously, Selphie, what the hell?”

Selphie ignored her friend and when Seifer turned away from the door, she nodded and walked off to find a chair. There happened to be one resting against the far wall, and she dragged it back to the center of the room; the legs scraping against the concrete caused a shrill screech to echo throughout the cavernous room. 

Once it was in place, Selphie nodded at the other guy, who led Mira back to the center of the hangar. He pushed her down onto the chair, none-too-gently, and Mira glared up at him. Seifer pulled thin pieces of rope from his pocket and handed them over to the other guy, who proceeded to tie Mira to the arms of the chair.

When he was finished, Selphie looked over at Seifer questioningly, and Seifer shrugged. “Figured we might need some.”

After shaking her head in disbelief, Selphie circled around to face Mira, and Seifer stepped up beside her with his arms crossed over his chest. Mira let out a nervous chuckle and her eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. “What is this, good cop, bad cop?”

Seifer shrugged his shoulders. “If it were up to me, it would just be bad cop.”

Mira did a double-take at him, and Selphie spoke up before her friend could retort. “Mira, why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“My phone died a little while ago. I didn’t have time to stop and charge it before I left for my contract.”

“Why didn’t you mention anything to us about getting a contract? We saw you yesterday when we first got here.”

“It came in suddenly; I was just notified about it,” Mira offered with a shrug.

At that, Selphie remained silent, though she too crossed her arms as she continued to stare down at Mira. “How many people have access to Luna’s office?”

“What? You know the answer to this, Selphie!”

Seifer took a half-step forward. “Just answer the questions, and this’ll be over sooner rather than later, yeah?”

“Seifer, I’ve got it,” Selphie muttered over her shoulder at him. He glanced over at her and nodded imperceptibly, before stepping back.

In his younger years, he had issues with conceding power, but now, not so much. If Selphie felt like she could handle interrogating her friend, then he’d trust her on that. After all, like she said, she _did_ have the right to. If Mira was indeed a Sanctus spy, it would mean years of betrayal to Selphie. If the truth came out, she deserved to be the one who found it. If it had been one of _his_ friends, the select few that he had, he would expect to be given the same courtesy.

When Selphie faced Mira again, she repeated the question. “How many people have access to Luna’s office?”

Before she answered the question, Mira glanced away for a brief second. “Just three.”

“And those three are?”

“Me, you, and the head of security.”

“When was the last time he went up to the office?”

“I don’t know. Probably right after the bomb went off. You can pull the logs from his mainframe.”

Selphie paced around to the opposite side of Mira. “Where were you when the bomb went off? You’re normally glued to your chair, or Luna’s side. Why weren’t you in the office when it happened?”

“I-I went downstairs to the cafeteria because Luna and I hadn’t had lunch that day. She said she wanted something to eat, so I offered to go get it.”

“Convenient,” Seifer mumbled.

Selphie glanced sidelong at him before resuming her questioning. “Seifer found something in your desk that we wanted to ask you about, but you know, you didn’t answer your phone earlier, so we couldn’t find you to ask.”

“In my desk?” Mira echoed, her brows drawing together in confusion.

“Yeah, in the equally as convenient locked drawer.” When Mira looked at Seifer with narrowed eyes, he shrugged unapologetically.

“Okay, so how did you open my ‘conveniently locked drawer’?” Mira asked.

“I pick—” the other guy started to say, until Seifer interrupted him.

“It’s not important. What is damn suspicious is that you were hiding a planner with some shady shit written in it, inside said drawer, and that we found this—” Seifer pulled the pin out of his pocket and held it up so Mira could see. “—in there, too.”

“My pin? So? Why is that suspicious?” Mira asked, looking over at Selphie in confusion.

“Are you from Dollet, Mira? I know you mentioned that you studied abroad there for a little while, but like, does your family live there? Were you born there?” Selphie questioned.

“Uh, yes, I was born in Dollet. And yes, I go back and visit my family every summer.”

“What do your parents do?” Seifer asked, changing tracks.

This time, Selphie moved aside a little bit for him to step forward. When he did, he loomed over Mira, staring down his nose at her. His intimidation tactic seemed to work, because she shrunk back into the chair ever-so-slightly.

“They—My mom works with the mayor. She grew up with him. She basically does what I do—did—for Luna.”

“So she’s his secretary,” Selphie commented.

“Yeah.”

Out of nowhere, Seifer asked, “What’s S.T.U. stand for?”

“What?” Mira asked, deadpan.

“S.T.U. I assume you don’t have a boyfriend named Stu, whose name also happens to be an acronym for something. So what’s it stand for?” Seifer stared Mira down, watching her as she answered.

“I . . . I don’t know what that is. I’ve never heard that acronym before.”

“Oh, huh,” Seifer said as he pulled the planner out of his inner coat pocket. He’d rolled it up to fit and he had to bend it in the opposite direction to try and straighten it out so that he could show Mira. Once he had it relatively flat, he opened the planner to one of the pages that had “S.T.U.” written in one of the boxes. “For something that you have _no idea_ what it is, it seems to be written in your planner pretty fuckin’ often.”

He slowly fanned through the pages, pausing on every page that had an appointment with “S.T.U.” penciled in. Mira stayed quiet, and Selphie let her arms drop to her sides as she started pacing around the room. It seemed like she was deferring to Seifer for the moment as she tried to work off her tension.

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, Seifer tapped his finger on the acronym. “What is S.T.U.?”

Instead of answering the question, Mira straightened in her chair and stared straight ahead with a firm set to her lips. Selphie continued to pace behind Seifer, who straightened and glared down at Mira again. “Are you gonna fuckin’ answer the question or not?”

Mira tilted her chin up, glaring up at him with the same fire in her eyes that had been there when she’d told him that she didn’t trust him. _Well, good. That goes both ways, sweetheart. I don’t fuckin’ trust you either._

Without warning, Selphie barrelled past Seifer and braced her hands on the arms of Mira’s chair. Her momentum caused the chair to tilt backwards, and Mira’s eyes widened with fear. 

“Answer the question, Mira! It’s a _simple_ question! We’re just trying to prove that you’re innocent, and I just—” Again, all of the anger seemed to leave Selphie as quickly as it had arrived. “Just help us, please,” she pleaded in a quiet voice as her head dropped onto her chest.

Mira’s lower lip trembled as she stared at the top of Selphie’s head. Seifer almost thought she would answer, but she raised her eyes and stared straight forward again. Selphie let out a drained sigh and stepped back, brushing past Seifer.

He watched her walk away, deflated like a balloon with no air, and he clenched his jaw when he looked back at Mira. There were few things in this world that could make Selphie Tilmitt look that dejected, and one of them was betrayal from a person she’d considered a friend. He knew. He’d been there, done that. To see it happen firsthand to Selphie—again—filled him with insurmountable anger. 

“I bet it stands for fuckin’ _Sanctus - Trabia Unit_ doesn’t it?” he accused from between clenched teeth.

When Mira’s eyes immediately darted over to meet Seifer’s, he knew he’d guessed right. Less than a second later, she looked away again, but he saw her throat shift as she swallowed, even from a few steps away. 

“Tell us about Sanctus, Mira,” he demanded.

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she finally replied, eyes staring straight ahead again.

“Oh, you are gonna tell us somethin’, because I can promise you, I’m definitely not a good cop.” Seifer leaned down, bracing himself on the arms of the chair like Selphie had done only moments before. The difference was, he was a foot taller and significantly wider than Selphie. He’d also destroyed Trabia once before, and he knew that she knew that—hated him for it. He knew that it would fuel her fear that much more. In a low voice, he threatened, “You don’t wanna push me.”

Mira glared up at him, but remained silent. From behind him, in a timid voice, Selphie asked, “Why, Mira? Why would you do it?”

Avoiding Selphie’s gaze, Mira stated, “I did it to _help_ the world.”

“ _Help_? By killing _Luna?_ Luna, the girl we grew up with; who braided your hair every night because you hated when it got in your mouth when you slept; who made sure to take notes for you in class every time you missed a day? _Luna_?”

“Luna was just . . . a necessary casualty.” Finally, she looked over at Selphie with tears welling her eyes. “I tried to convince her not to apply for the position of headmistress—I _tried_! When she wouldn’t listen to me, I-I knew I had no choice. The people who lead Garden are the ones who ruin everything for the rest of us. In order to take Garden down, remove them from the world, we had to start with the source of power.”

Seifer straightened. “Why do you kooks think Garden is hurting the world?”

“We’re not _kooks_! We just see Garden for what they are! _They’re_ the terrorists, not us! Every time Garden steps in to help—in both the Sorceress Wars—things only got worse for the civilians in the way!”

“Who told you that? You’re only old enough to remember the second war. Who told you that Garden fucked up the first, too?” Seifer questioned.

Mira glanced over at Seifer before taking a deep breath and dropping her gaze to the floor. “The leader of Sanctus.”

“Who is . . .?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Mira, it won’t just be Luna who ends up being a casualty,” Selphie explained. “More innocent people are going to die because of what you guys have planned. You don’t want to responsible for them, I know you don’t. That’s not who you are.”

Mira just shook her head. “They’re _necessary_ casualties. And it doesn’t matter who told me, anyway. I was there the day you guys came to Dollet for your stupid field exam.”

“You were?” Selphie asked, leaning back in surprise.

“Yeah, I was. I went back to visit my parents, and we were eating at the cafe when all of the chaos started. My dad stepped out into the street, and—that stupid spider thing ran past. It crushed his leg when he fell and . . . he’s never been the same. He had to quit his job, my parents lost their house because they couldn’t pay . . .” She trailed off and dropped her gaze again. In a quiet voice, she finished, “Nothing that Garden ever touches or meddles in gets better. They just make things worse.”

Seifer scoffed and shook his head. “You should fuckin’ thank them for saving your asses from the crazy sorceress who tried to end the world. I should know, I was there.”

Mira just stared up at him in disgust. “You of all people should understand what our goal is.”

“Why, because I defected and went to the other side? You think that makes us best buddies for life?” Seifer mocked.

Before Mira could retort, Selphie approached her and bent down so that she had to look up at her friend. She placed her hands on Mira’s knees, and in a soft voice, said, “Mira . . . if Garden doesn’t exist, we can’t help protect the world. We don’t try to destroy it, we try to _save_ it. If you don’t tell us anything, if you don’t help us, we can’t do that. Please. I don’t want any more people to die.”

Mira’s eyes turned glassy, and she looked up and away from Selphie as she pressed her lips together. Selphie squeezed her friend’s legs, and when Mira looked back down at her, Selphie continued. “I have friends at Galbadia Garden, and I have friends at Balamb Garden. Friends I consider my family, Mira. You want to take revenge on Garden for what happened to your dad—I get that. But if the people I love die, too, then doesn’t that just make things worse?”

Mira’s head dropped to her chest, and the tears that had pooled in her eyes fell into her lap. Selphie rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around her friend’s hunched shoulders, embracing her. “Please, Mira. Even if you can’t tell us who the leader of Sanctus is, at least tell us which of the Gardens is your next target. Maybe I can save the people I care about this time.”

At first, Mira didn’t respond. The silence in the room got thicker, and thicker, until Seifer thought she wouldn’t reply at all. Finally, Mira raised her head and Selphie stepped back to give her some space.

Without meeting any of their eyes, Mira mumbled, “The next target is Galbadia. Same place, the headmaster’s office. The bomb has probably already been planted, so you’ll want to hur—”

“You, go start up the _Ragnarok_. We’re leavin’ _now!_ ” Seifer instructed as he pointed at the other guy. The brunet nodded before rushing out of the room.

Selphie rose to her feet and Seifer reached out to her. “Selphie, come on.”

Before she turned away from Mira, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, we—we have to leave you here so you can’t warn Sanctus.”

Mira offered a strained smile and shrugged, as if she’d expected as much. Selphie took a step back, and, in one of the most heartbreaking tones that Seifer had ever heard in his life, said, “Goodbye, Mira.”

She stepped into the circle of his arms, and he steered her by the elbow out of the garage. Quickly, they made their way back across the basketball court and down the hall towards the lobby. After weaving through the small morning crowd of students, they burst out of the front gates and beelined for the _Ragnarok_. Just up ahead, the ship’s engines were already powered up and the propulsion jets were blowing out streams of heat. The other guy had left the boarding ramp down for them, and they scurried up and into the belly of the ship. Almost immediately after they were clear, Selphie pressed the button to close the ramp.

Once the frigid swirls of air had dissipated, Selphie and Seifer rushed into the hangar. Their footsteps against the metal floor echoed throughout the room as they hurriedly ascended the stairs to the upper deck. As they made their way through the ship towards the lift, the sound of the jets charging up got progressively faster, and louder. By the time they passed through the door into the upper cabin, it sounded like they were ready for take-off.

Together, they stepped onto the lift and Seifer grabbed the railing to steady himself as they were taken up to the cockpit. He didn’t notice it, but he was squeezing the railing so hard, his knuckles were turning white. 

For once, he was in a position to do something that could save people. This time around, he wasn’t on the wrong side. If they could just make it to Galbadia Garden in time, maybe . . . maybe they could prevent another catastrophe from happening.

The lift stuttered to a halt, and immediately after, the electronic doors leading to the cockpit slid open with a slight hiss. They jogged into the cramped space, and when Selphie saw Nida in the pilot’s seat, her expression darkened. With quick steps, she scurried over to the seat and nudged him in the shoulder.

“Nida. Move.”

Nida glanced up at her in surprise and barely scooted over into the co-pilot’s seat before Selphie was collapsing into the chair. Once she was situated, she reached up and caressed the curve of the steering wheel, as if glad for something that was familiar—something she knew would never change. Seifer stepped up to the seat and braced his arms on the headrest, watching Selphie as she worked. Without a word, she flipped a sequence of switches and pressed a couple of buttons, and he heard the engines start to churn even faster.

“You might wanna find a seat. We’re taking off,” Selphie suggested.

Nida buckled himself into the co-pilot seat. After staring down at the top of her head for a few more seconds, Seifer grunted his agreement and stepped back from Selphie’s seat, backpedaling a bit until he reached the spare chair just behind and to the left of hers. He’d barely connected his ass to the leather before Selphie tilted the steering wheel back, causing the _Ragnarok_ to gradually lift up into the air. With a slight shake of his head—why anyone trusted her with the controls to a fast-moving vehicle was beyond him—he buckled his seatbelt. Not a moment later, Selphie moved one hand to the acceleration lever and shoved it straight forward.

Next thing he knew, they were shooting off into the sky, heading straight for Galbadia Garden.

  


_Two hours later_

  


Seifer stared at the back of Selphie’s chair with his finger pressed up against his lip, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her every move. With every pound of her fist against the console, Nida would wince and lean away from her ever-so-slightly. A few vehement thumps later, the brunet looked over at his pilot with a furrowed brow.

“Selphie, maybe you ought to—”

His suggestion was eclipsed by her pounding the console yet again, and yelling, “Why won’t they pick up?!”

After leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers in his lap, Seifer shook his head at her behavior. He knew she was upset, but this was . . . frankly, a little frightening. He chose not to answer her question, figuring it was rhetorical, and continued to just watch her instead.

Beside Selphie, Nida cleared his throat and said, “It’s possible that Sanctus managed to figure out how to jam incoming communications.” 

Finally, Seifer decided to speak up. After crossing his arms, he asked, “They can’t do that from the outside, though, right? Don’t they have to be there?”

Selphie paused in her angry abuse of the _Ragnarok’s_ controls, and she and Nida turned around, looking at him with blank expressions. He shrugged nonchalantly and said, “I paid attention in _some_ classes back in the day. Anyway . . .?”

Selphie swiveled back around and punched a bunch of buttons, trying to patch another call through, as Nida said, “Uh, yeah. That’s true. They have to be on-site in order to successfully jam the signal. It’s like unjamming a signal. Works the same way.”

“Which is why we had to go to Timber to stop you guys when the President did his broadcast during the war, remember?” Selphie called out.

“Yeah, I remember,” Seifer mumbled in response. He angled his chair towards Nida. “What are the chances of _our_ systems being fucked up?”

Nida looked up and tilted his head to the side. “I mean, it’s not _im_ possible. If Mira knew we were looking for her, she could’ve been messing with stuff during that two-hour window before we found her.”

“Ugh, Hynedamnit! ANSWER!” Selphie shouted, banging on the console again.

Concerned, though he’d never verbalise it, Seifer leaned his head back and narrowed his eyes at the back of Selphie’s chair again. A moment of silence passed before he cleared his throat and looked back over at Nida. 

When the brunet reluctantly turned and met his gaze, Seifer said, “How ‘bout you go check?”

“Oh, uh, right now?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

“Okay. I guess I could,” Nida conceded, rising to his feet and making his way out of the cockpit. 

As the door slid shut, Seifer could hear the lift running, and he knew they would be alone for a little while. Nonchalantly, he got out of his chair and shuffled over to the co-pilot seat, as if it were the most natural action in the world. After he plopped down into it, Selphie looked over at him in surprise.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked, facing ahead again.

“Makin’ sure you’re not gonna crash us into the ocean, what with your emotional rampage going on,” he replied, lifting his legs and propping up his heels on the console beside her. He leaned back in the seat and folded his hands in his lap, looking like he couldn’t be bothered for the world.

Selphie eyed his boots with disdain and tried to nudge them off the console. “With your legs in the way, I probably will crash us into the ocean.”

“Hey, how ‘bout we take a deep breath, just . . . I dunno. Try to chill the fuck out?”

“I can’t ‘chill’ if I can’t get a hold of Galbadia! If we can warn them in advance about the bomb, maybe we can—”

“If you’ve tried to get a call through four times already, I don’t think it’s gonna magically happen, Tilmitt. Either their systems are being jammed, or ours are down. Either way, we won’t be able to get a hold of ‘em. So just concentrate on flying this damn thing, and getting us there as fast as you can.”

At his words, she sighed and deflated in her chair, molding her back to the curve of the leather. A few seconds of silence passed, with her staring at the controls, dejected, and he watching her with a blank expression. Eventually, she looked back up and stared out the windshield. In a quiet voice, she asked, “What if I can’t get us there in time? What if . . . what if someone else dies?”

“You’re a Seed. You should know the answer to this one,” Seifer reminded her as he tilted his head and followed her gaze, staring out the windshield at the expansive ocean below them.

“I feel like it’s _because_ I’m a SeeD that I don’t,” she mumbled in response.

Silence fell between them again, and Seifer continued to stare out the window as he tried to find the words to comfort her. He was shit at it, always had been. Even when it came to the people he cared about, like Fujin and Raijin, he still never knew what to say to them. It was why he avoided expressing his emotions, or whatever the hell people called it. Most of the time, whatever was causing you to _feel_ didn’t have a magical solution that would make it all better—especially not empty niceties or the usual, “I’m sorry”, so he just opted not to say anything at all.

Slowly, he looked back at her and studied her profile. A few seconds later, he murmured, “You can’t think about it that way, Tilmitt. Just keep flying in the right direction and we’ll take it from there.”

“Heh.” Selphie leaned her head back against the seat. “Yeah, I guess that’s all we can do at this point, huh?”

He never got the chance to answer, because the doors to the cockpit slid open again. Nida walked back into the room and said, “Our communication systems are fine. The problem’s gotta be on Galbadia’s end. I don’t think Mira knew the first thing about how to fiddle with these ancient controls. Plus, Estharians never make sense, even in their technology.”

Both of them ignored Nida’s little rant. Instead, Seifer lowered his legs and leaned forward, staring at Selphie until she looked over at him with a despondent expression. He rapped his knuckles on the console as he rose to his feet. “Full speed ahead.”

“Roger that.”

  


_Three and a half hours later, just outside of Galbadia Garden_

  


Galbadia Garden rested in the center of Monterosa Plateau, immobile since the end of the war. For the first few years, the Garden had remained out of the public’s sights and on the move, likely recovering from their own, personal defeat at Ultimecia’s hands. After having a years-long strained political relationship with . . . nearly everyone in the world, they’d settled on an agreement with the world powers that basically guaranteed that they were grounded until further notice. It chafed Martine that Balamb Garden still had the option to remain mobile, but after he retired, it never came back up again. Their new headmaster, Giles, didn’t seem to care to dredge up old grudges and memories, and said he was content to remain parked in Monterosa. 

Besides, Galbadia had a lot of work to do if they wanted to return to the top of the ranks as a world military power.

When the familiar turquoise and gold ring came into view off in the distance, Selphie turned off a couple of switches on the console. The hum of the _Ragnarok’s_ engines quieted to a slight purr as they slowed for landing, and Nida unbuckled himself from the co-pilot’s seat. 

He walked past Seifer’s chair and announced, “I’m going to go prep the ramp for landing. Meet you guys down there?”

“Yep,” Selphie said, and Seifer only offered the guy a curt nod. 

Instead of joining Selphie up at the console again, like he had earlier, Seifer rose to his feet and walked over to the opposite side of the cockpit. He stared out at the cragged landscape, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he saw a tumbleweed drift along the dirt. 

“Hyne, why anyone would wanna live out here is beyond me,” he muttered.

“Irvine seems to like it,” Selphie noted from behind him.

“Yeah, and there’s a whole city of people living smack dab in the middle of the Estharian desert. Doesn’t mean they’re not all crazy.”

“Just because you don’t like _any_ extreme temperatures, doesn’t mean other people don’t, Seifer.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied noncommittally. Then he shut up so that she could concentrate on landing the ship. 

A few minutes later, they gradually got lower and lower until the _Ragnarok_ touched down on the rough terrain. Selphie flipped the remaining switches and pushed one final button to power down the engines, and then she was swiveling her chair around to jump to her feet. 

Seifer turned around to join her, and after a shared nod, she led the way out of the cockpit and back down to the hangar. When they walked into the room where the boarding ramp was, Nida had already pressed the button to disembark, and the ramp was currently mid-way to the ground. 

As they were waiting for the ramp to finish lowering, Seifer turned to Selphie. “Did you try calling him? Maybe you can catch him in advance and get him to evacuate the Garden.”

Selphie nodded as the ramp lowered, though her expression was grim. As the plains came fully into view, she replied, “Yeah. Kept getting a no-signal sound.”

Seifer tsked and faced forward again. _Not a good sign._

The second the ramp was fully lowered, the trio hurried down to the plains. Selphie had parked the ship as close to the front gate as she physically could without taking out the Garden itself. They didn’t have _too_ far to run, but considering the situation, Seifer worried that it was far enough to be too late.

Within a few minutes, the russet rocks of the plains gave way to the paved concrete that led to the Garden’s front gate. There were only a few students milling about at the entrance, and the trio sped past without paying much attention to them. When they reached the gates and tried to pass through, the gate didn’t give way and the light on top of the mechanism flashed red.

Frustrated, Selphie stomped her foot. “Oh, come on! What the he—”

From the side of the entrance, a disembodied voice called out through a speaker in the wall. “You have to tap your student I.D. on the top of the gate in order to get through. Are you new?”

“No, but we’re—we’re not students! We have to see the headmaster right away!” Selphie exclaimed, pointing to the opposite end of the lobby.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said, though it didn’t sound the slightest bit apologetic. “If you don’t have clearance, you’ll have to wait for an approved staff member to—”

“We don’t have time!” Seifer bellowed at the speaker, throwing his arm out to the side in frustration. “If we don’t get in now, a fuckin’ bomb is going to go off!”

“A what? Is this a prank? Because—”

“URGH!” Selphie exclaimed, backing away from the gate. 

“Selphie, what are you—” Nida asked, raising his hands in warning. Before he could finish his sentence, Selphie took off at a sprint for the gate. At the last second, she leaped into the air, vaulting straight over the gate and landing in a graceful roll.

“Come on! You guys are both tall! Climb over the stupid thing!” she commanded, before taking off across the lobby.

“Selphie, you—wait for us!” Nida shouted after her. When he saw that she wasn’t going to stop, he mumbled something under his breath and gingerly tried to climb over the gate. His landing wasn’t nearly as graceful as Selphie’s—he stumbled on the way down—but he made it over. 

Seifer followed suit, though the few extra inches he had on Nida allowed him to simply lift his leg up and over to the other side. 

Galbadia Garden was significantly larger than both Trabia and Balamb Gardens, and the lobby was massive—both wide and tall. In the center of the room, a large, golden beam of light shot straight up into the air. Unlike Balamb, and similar to the way Trabia had been designed before he ruined it, Galbadia’s lobby was open-air; the beam of light eventually dissipated, swallowed up by the sky without a trace. 

Galbadia’s security was even tighter than Trabia’s, and the only way to access the headmaster’s office was by a special, dedicated elevator that could only be called on the second floor. In addition to it being the only access point, a special keycard needed to be used in order to even work the elevator. The fastest route to the second floor, and to the elevator in particular, was across the lobby and to the left. From where he and Nida were by the gates, they could see Selphie racing up the steps, taking them two at a time. Hastily, they ran across the lobby and hurried up the stairs after her.

When they stepped onto the second floor landing, they heard her before they saw her. Loud pounding was coming from the other end of the hall, and after they rounded the corner from the stairwell, Seifer spotted Selphie standing just in front of the elevator doors. Periodically, she’d hit the steel with the side of her fist, before following it up with a sound kick that echoed down the shaft. 

As they approached, they heard her shouting, “Come on! It’s an _emergency_! Doesn’t anyone understand what an emergency is?!”

“Damn it,” Seifer cursed. “We need a special keycard to use the elevator.”

“What?” She looked over at him sharply. “Since when?”

“Since always. I ‘borrowed’ the Garden during the war, remember? We need to find a staff member who has clearance.”

“We don’t have _time!_ ”

“We’re gonna have to find the time,” he retorted.

Selphie opened her mouth to yell back at him, when she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching them. From the way they sounded, the wearer had heavy boots on and a rather long stride. Seifer turned around, but the person beat him to the punch with his greeting.

“Sephy? Is that you?”

With no other acknowledgment, Selphie said, “Irvine, about time you showed up! Do you have clearance to the headmaster’s office?” She didn’t even bother with a “How are you” or “It’s good to see you”. She was right—they didn’t have the time.

Irvine tilted his head down, and all Seifer saw was the top of his cowboy hat. When he straightened, he lifted his arms and shrugged. “Well, sure I do, but why—”

“Give it to me!” Selphie demanded.

“Uh, okay?” Irvine posed his response as a question and pulled the keycard out of his coat pocket. “Here. Mind tellin’ me what’s going on?”

As she swiped the keycard and the elevator doors slid open, she instructed, “No time! Bomb in the office! Make sure you evacuate everyone in the Garden!” 

“A _bomb?_ Like what happened at Trabia?” Irvine questioned, his brows low on his face with concern. “Wait, and you’re heading _up there_?”

Seifer and Nida piled into the elevator with Selphie, and just as the doors shut, she yelled, “Yes, and yes! Go! Evacuate!”

The last thing they saw of Irvine was him hurriedly tipping his hat in acquiescence before running off down the hall. Seifer patted his coat pocket out of habit, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Selphie tapped her foot rapidly as the elevator took them up to the third floor. Under her breath she murmured, “Come on, come on. Doesn’t this thing go any faster?”

The words had barely left her mouth when a _ding!_ announced their arrival, and the doors were sliding open once more. She darted out of the elevator and Seifer dove forward, yanking her back by the arm. The ticking of the bomb’s timer counting down could be heard even through the double doors that blocked their entrance to the interior office.

“What are you, crazy?” he exclaimed. “If that bomb goes off now, you’d be dead! Do you hear me, Tilmitt? _Fuckin’ dead_!”

“We don’t have time to waste, Seifer! I’m the bomb expert! If I can get in there, and dis—”

She was interrupted by the ceasing of the ticks, followed by a chime going off in the next room behind the closed doors. Both of them looked up, and the sound of air being sucked in at a rapid pace had Selphie clinging to Seifer’s arm.

“It’s a big one. Bigger than Trabia,” she said hurriedly.

“You two, behind me!” Seifer shouted. Thankfully, neither one of them argued with him, much to his surprise. 

Quickly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled the cool, glowing blue orb out. Curving his body around Selphie, and a crouched Nida behind her, he lifted the stone into the air, clutched in his hand. They didn’t have a chance to say or do anything else, because the whooshing sound suddenly stopped, just before the double doors blew past them. A glowing, cerulean shield appeared over them, deflecting the debris that followed shortly after.

Then, they were engulfed by a wave of smoke and fire.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is filler and fluff. "The deep breath before the plunge," as Gandalf says.

There was no sound for what seemed the longest time. But when Selphie finally forced her eyes open, there was too much fire and smoke for much time at all to have passed. The cerulean shield was gone now, leaving only the fading image of a sea serpent around them. When it finally vanished, the smoke swirled around her body, clinging to the edges of her eyes until her vision was blurry from too many tears. Then came the hacking coughs as she inhaled the noxious gas. She put her arm in front of her mouth and nose and got to her feet; even with the shield, the force of the blast had knocked her down.

Nida was on the ground too, unconscious, but seemingly okay.

Selphie turned towards the office, saw Seifer still conscious, crouching on the ground with his head bowed. Slowly, he got to his feet, swaying a bit. He almost lost balance, but Selphie moved just into position for him to lean some of his weight on her. When he was balanced again, he pushed away from her and clutched at his head. His lips were moving, like he was speaking to her, but she still heard nothing; she just watched his lips move with wide eyes.

Then she heard it, a slight ringing in her ears. Her hearing was coming back, it just had been overwhelmed by the explosion.

Seifer looked at her when she didn’t respond, and she just pointed to her ears and shook her head. His expression gentled somewhat, a focused gleam in his eye, and he lifted his hands, cupping her ears. They grew a little cold, but Selphie forced herself to stay still. A moment later, the ringing increased, a shooting pain accompanying it. Then a blue light appeared around the edges of her vision, the ringing disappeared, and she could hear the faint crackling of the flames, and her own fast breathing, and then finally an alarm.

“Selphie,” Seifer said in a muffled voice.

She merely looked at him, eyes changing between narrowed and wide as all the sounds came back to her, increasing with volume until she was sure her hearing was back.

Seifer lowered his hands and then turned towards what used to be the headmaster’s office. He lifted an arm and then disappeared into the smoke until it swallowed him up.

 _Someone turn off that damn alarm!_ Selphie thought as he put her own hands over her ears. She turned back to Nida and knelt down beside him. When she lowered her hands to reach for him, she noticed blood on her palms. Taking in as deep a breath as she could, she continued reaching for Nida, gently rolling him over onto his back.

“Nida,” she said--or tried to. It came out as an intelligent croak. After clearing her throat multiple times, she finally said again, successfully, if in a scratched voice, “Nida!”

After a second, his eyes slowly flickered open. He groaned and tried to get up, but Selphie pushed him gently back down.

Seifer had used Leviathan. She had her own GFs with her still, but she was reluctant to junction them for the first time after so long. Nida would be okay. He would be fine until Seifer could cast Cura on him as well.

“Where are you hurt?” Selphie asked, her voice getting stronger with every word.

He vaguely gestured towards his head. Perhaps he had a concussion from hitting the ground.

“I’ll get Seifer. Stay here,” Selphie said, patting his chest and leaving behind a tiny smatter of blood.

Carefully, she got to her feet and faced the unknown of the destroyed office. Then taking a deep breath, she held up her arm again and plunged into the smoke after Seifer. She had no idea where she was stepping, or if she was even headed in the right direction.

_Please say no one was in here. Please let no one be hurt._

Though, of course she knew if someone had been in there, they would be dead, not just hurt.

Eventually, the smoke thinned a little and she saw a bit of sky. It got even clearer the closer she got. Then she realized it was Seifer, using Aero to clear the smoke out so they could see and breathe. It would go fast, she knew, if she junctioned just one GF and cast Aero with him--she even had Tornadoes, still--but she was still scared to break the oath.

Maybe there would come a time finally when she had to use them, but this wasn’t it.

The alarm still rang in her ears, loud and obnoxious, and vaguely reminding her of the missile base. She tried to block it out by focusing purely on looking for survivors. The last time she’d been here had been the Battle of the Gardens, and though she only remembered little of how the office looked then, at the moment it didn’t look like anything at all. There was smoke and fire, debris and glass, and the open sky and sun glaring down at them.

Selphie stumbled through a glassy section until she reached what looked like an overturned chair. It was huge, burnt to the frame. As she rounded it, she gasped. The charred near-skeleton of Headmaster Giles was grinning at her--no, he’d been forever caught in a scream. Someone had tied him to his chair, made sure he was in his office when the bomb went off.

She crouched down beside him, her arms falling to her sides so her knuckles scraped the churned-up glass floor. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t in time.” Her head bowed. “I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes closed and the alarm came back in full force. Her shoulders came in, her muscles tensed, and then she screamed out, “Will someone turn that damn alarm off!”

As if something had heard her, the alarm stopped and her eyes flew open. At the other end of the office, the smoke had cleared just enough for Selphie to see the elevator come up again. The door had been mostly melted off, and someone in the elevator kicked it down: Irvine. He and a few other Garden personnel rushed in, one attending to Nida on the ground. The others began either helping Seifer with the smoke, or dousing the fires with Water. Irvine came straight to Selphie, sliding to a stop a few feet away when he recognized Giles’ corpse.

“I didn’t make it,” Selphie said to Irvine. “I’m sorry.”

Irvine’s eyes moved to her, and became the most tender she’d seen in a long time. He knelt down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She smooshed her face into his shoulder and breathed in his scent. For once, there was no other smell more comforting.

“Hey, now, don’t worry about that at all,” Irvine murmured. “You did your best, I’m sure. Like you always do, you know?”

Selphie moved away and gave him a thankful smile. She glanced at the corpse again and then quickly got to her feet. Irvine moved up with her, keeping his hands on her arms to make sure she didn’t topple over. “You gonna be fine?” he asked, looking her over.

“Yeah,” Selphie said, rubbing her shoulder. “If it weren’t for Seifer . . .” She looked across the office towards him, to where he was just blowing out the last of the thick smoke. _Funny. I’m sure I thought something exactly like that back in the war, but it meant something completely different._ A tiny smile touched the corners of her mouth, but it quickly went away when Seifer looked around, searching for something else to do, and his eyes landed on Selphie. Then they looked at Irvine. And then he turned away like he couldn’t be less bothered with anything else.

“I’d heard about that . . .” Irvine said. “You sure he’s gone good now, huh?”

Selphie gave him a slightly miffed look, but Irvine didn’t deserve it. He was as right to be suspicious as anyone else.

“You sure you’re okay, Sephy?” he asked.

She lightly touched his arm and then began searching for the point of origin. It couldn’t have been too close to the headmaster, else he’d be in a million pieces. At least, not as intact as he was now, if you could even call it that. 

Irvine followed her. “We knew there was a threat, and we kind of upped security in the time we had, but I guess we weren’t fast enough, were we?”

“None of us were,” Selphie said quietly and she poked through some debris with a shoe.

“Man,” Irvine said, his voice heavy. “I didn’t know Giles all that well, honestly. We were two completely different kinds of people. But . . .”

He didn’t need to add anything after that; Selphie knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is Balamb next?” Irvine asked, though Selphie could tell it wasn’t to her specifically. “And then after that, they’re obviously not just planning on stopping there, right?”

Selphie paused in her investigation of a smashed snowglobe. “They will be when I’m through with them,” she said through gritted teeth.

More people came up the elevator, including a few medics. Two of them helped Nida to his feet and over to the elevator. The others split up between Seifer and Selphie.

“You should come to the infirmary,” one of them said to Selphie.

Her eyes narrowed. “Not until I--”

The other one sighed, but said interrupted firmly, “It’s not a suggestion. The doctor is ordering anyone affected by the blast to get checked out. I’m sorry, but until she clears you, you’re not authorized to be up here.”

Selphie frowned and looked at them carefully. But before she could open her mouth to retort, Irvine put his hands up and said easily, “We’ll be right down. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

The medics both nodded and went to join their comrades who were having a little more trouble with Seifer.

“You’ll be cleared in no time,” Irvine said. “I guarantee it. Then you can investigate to your heart’s content. Come on, I won’t feel good before I know you’re 100% okay.”

She stuck out her bottom lip, but his eyes were hard to defy, even if they had lost their puppy-like quality. They were warm, genuine. Selphie was glad to see them, surprising herself. Maybe it was just the circumstances surrounding them seeing each other again. They were just friends, supporting each other, caring about each other. And Irvine seemed to understand her more than anyone else, was less intrusive, yet still able to show just how much he cared without those long, emotional talks she seemed to have with most of her other friends. Not that she disliked her friends for that, but Irvine seemed to have a special gift of getting through to her without that.

And Seifer . . . 

_My boys_ , she thought firmly.

That brought a smile to her face, ruining her whole pouting face, but she was okay with yielding. She _was_ tired. Maybe a little rest in the infirmary was just what she needed. The immediate danger was past, and they had a little time before they had to turn their worries to Balamb Garden, the soul.

“Hold on,” she said to Irvine, touching his arm again before she walked over to where Seifer was giving the medics a tongue lashing. She gently pushed the medics away and looked at Seifer something fierce. “Come on.”

“The infirmary can wait,” Seifer said. “We have business here first.” He cast one of the medics a glare and they winced.

But Selphie stayed put. “Come _on_. They’re just doing their job. And then we can finish ours.”

Seifer clenched his jaw but thrust a hand in the air towards the elevator. “After you, then.”

Selphie held back a victorious smile and returned to Irvine. Then the three of them took the elevator down. Irvine knew the way to the infirmary, so he led while Selphie and Seifer walked just behind him, Selphie holding one of her arms while she watched her feet.

Nida was the only other occupant in the infirmary when they arrived, sitting on a bed with one knee bent while a doctor ran a little handheld scanner over his body, starting from his feet and ending at his head. When the others came in, she gave them the tiniest of glances. To Nida, she said, “You definitely have a concussion, son, but otherwise you’re fine. Just lie back for now; I’ll be back after I check out your friends.”

The doctor came over and gave the three of them a brief, unimpressed look over, then she gestured towards three other beds. “Over there.”

“Oh, I’m just the escort,” Irvine insisted with the tip of his hat.

“Fine,” the doctor said in a dismissive tone as she led the way to the beds.

Selphie sat on the end of hers, legs dangling in the air. _Too short . . ._ And Seifer sat on the bed beside her, on the side, legs definitely long enough to reach the floor.

“I’m going to go back up and see if they need me to do anything,” Irvine told Selphie. “But I’ll see you again soon, okay? You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He lifted her hand, kissed it, and then left them to the care of the doctor.

She started with Selphie, also running the scanner over Selphie’s body. When she was finished, she looked at the results with a frown. After pressing a few buttons, she slipped the device into a large pocket of her coat and said, “Someone patch you up with magic?” As if she already knew the answer, she tilted her head in Seifer’s direction and gave him an indescribable look.

“I couldn’t hear,” Selphie said. “Cura on my ears.”

“Well, good. If you had waited until now, you might have had permanent hearing damage,” the doctor said. She fully looked at Seifer now. “So thanks, kid.”

Seifer just shrugged.

“As for the rest of you,” the doctor said to Selphie, her hands resting in her pockets. She seemed so bored with her job, and yet Selphie knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps she acted this way so her patients didn’t panic. If she was chill, then the patients would be more chill.

“You listening?” the doctor asked sharply. When she had Selphie’s attention again, she said, “As for the rest of you, most of it’s cosmetic damage. You’ll have some minor bruising, but if you take a shower you’ll look nearly like nothing happened.”

Selphie nodded. “Thanks,” she said in a quiet voice.

The doctor moved on to Seifer, pulling out the scanner again. “So you’re the big hero, huh?”

Seifer just rolled his eyes and avoided her gaze. “Just got a job to do.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Selphie said, staring at her lap. “If it weren’t for you, all three of us would be dead, you know.”

“So, like I said, you’re the big hero,” the doctor repeated in a slightly annoyed voice. “All right, what I said to her applies to you as well, minus the broken thumb.”

 _Huh?_ Selphie looked over quickly. He must have hurt it when he was summoning Leviathan. The explosion had happened so suddenly, and with the force of that and Leviathan’s power, it made sense he’d been affected. He was lucky, probably, to get off easy with just a broken thumb. Broken bones were easy fixes.

Selphie smiled in relief.

“I gotta treat the other guy first. I suggest you both get some rest. Even if you got out of it virtually unscathed, you still just survived an explosion,” the doctor said. “And I don’t want to hear any excuses that you gotta work or something.” She put her hands back in her pockets, eyed them carefully, as if daring them to say otherwise, and then headed off to a different part of the infirmary.

There was silence for a few moments, and then Selphie looked over at Seifer. He was frowning at his thumb, and for some reason he was trying to move it. Every tiny move caused him to wince, and yet he kept on doing it.

Selphie lay down onto her side and watched him.

Finally, when the doctor came back in and started treating Nida, Seifer looked up and he noticed Selphie watching him. He sighed and a ran a hand through his hair.

“We were too late,” Seifer said angrily, and just quiet enough that only Selphie could hear.

“I know,” she said. “Is your thumb okay? Stop moving it.”

Seifer flexed all his fingers on that hand, winced again, and then let it lay still on his leg. “I’m fine. I wanna get back up there. They won’t wait forever, and Balamb’s next.”

Again, she said, “I know. I’m worried. If G-Garden and T-Garden are the hearts, and they had the same kind of attack . . . then what are they going to do to Balamb? It’s the soul. You said so yourself.”

“Balamb’s got SeeD,” Seifer said. “Balamb’s got Quistis and . . . I hate to say it, but it’s got Squall too. No matter what resources Sanctus has, it won’t be nearly as easy attacking Balamb.”

“Unless . . .” Selphie took a deep breath. “Unless they have people inside. Trabia did, does. And if the communications were messed with, then there has to be inside people _here_ too.”

The thought must not have occurred to him fully until then, unless she was only reminding him, because Seifer’s eyes widened a little. Then he looked at the doctor suspiciously, as if she was one of the Sanctus spies. “No information outside the three of us unless we know 100% we can trust them.”

“Like the orphanage gang. And Xu. Dr. Kadowaki,” Selphie listed off.

“That ain’t a lot,” Seifer said.

“Is that worry I hear?” Selphie asked with a half-hearted laugh. “It’s not good when you start sounding really worried. Usually you’re good at hiding it, I guess. But I don’t know.” She glanced down at her fingers. “Not that I’m good at reading people. After all . . . we were enemies start of summer and now we’re . . . we’re friends, right?”

“Friendly acquaintances,” Seifer said, waving a hand in the air.

Selphie smiled a little, and then looked over as the doctor returned to help Seifer. With his focus gone away from her, Selphie rolled onto her other side. Before she knew it, she was asleep, and a few hours later someone was gently shaking her awake. The infirmary lights were low, and Nida was hovering over her, half his face illuminated.

“Hey, there,” he said.

Too quickly, Selphie sat up. She touched her fingers to her temple as she waited for the blackness to dissipate, then she quickly looked from side to side. “What time is it? Where’s everyone?”

“You fell asleep, so Seifer and I went up to the office to do some more investigating,” Nida said. “I thought you might want to join us, but he insisted you sleep.”

Selphie yawned. “Don’t know whether to be angry or not. How’s your head?”

Nida blinked, looking taken aback. “I . . . I . . . My head is . . .”

Selphie tilted her head to the side.

“My head is fine,” he said very quietly. “Thank you for asking.”

She just shrugged and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it?” she asked, realizing he hadn’t answered her question yet.

“Mmm, just after sunset. Everything’s gone a little quiet. Even more so than Balamb,” Nida said, looking out through the infirmary windows. “Seifer’s still in the office. It’s probably time for _him_ to get some sleep.”

Biting her lip, Selphie watched her swinging legs. “Hey . . . Nida. Do you think Seifer and I are friends?”

Again, Nida looked shocked she would ask him such a question. “Why ask me?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re right.” She gave a nervous laugh then set her feet on the floor. “I should probably go help Seifer. What have you two found?”

Together, they walked through the dimly lit corridors. Selphie walked slower than usual, but not from tiredness. She wasn’t overly eager to see the destroyed office again. And though she knew Giles would have been removed soon after she herself had left, just thinking about him made ugly knots in her stomach. He hadn’t been headmaster very long at all, and from what Irvine had told her, a lot of the students and faculty really liked him--a lot more than Martine, too.

A lot of Trabia students had loved Luna, too, and she’d been headmistress even shorter a period of time than Giles.

Where was the morgue in G-Garden?

Selphie shivered and pushed it out of her mind. The office was going to be quiet and dark. There was probably little more to see at this time of day, with only faint moonlight and flashlights to light up the crime scene. And Seifer really _did_ need to get some sleep.

“We forgot most of our things at Trabia Garden,” Selphie said, interrupting Nida’s report. She hadn’t heard a word of it, even though she’d asked him to tell her.

“Oh,” Nida said. “I’m sure they’ll have supplies we can borrow.”

Selphie suddenly stopped.

“Selphie?” Nida asked, a few feet ahead.

“What if we don’t find Sanctus in time for Balamb? What if they . . . _Quistis_. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her,” Selphie said. “But she’s the heart of Balamb Garden. Everyone loves her, respects her, looks up to her.”

Nida said nothing, just gave her a sympathetic look.

“I thought when you got older that . . . that losing the people you love was easier to bear, but when I think about losing Quistis or Rinoa or Zell or Irvine or Squall . . . It hurts just as much as it did during the war, maybe even _more_ so.” 

Selphie looked up at the lights flanking each side of the corridor. “And there were people who felt as strongly about Giles as I do about all of them. What they’re going through, I could go through too. I _will_ probably go through it. After all . . . Balamb is a school to train soldiers. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? The idea of being what I am now was thrilling when I was young. I’m not so sure anymore. The things I wanna do . . . I don’t need to be a SeeD to do them.”

Still, Nida remained silent.

Selphie looked down at him. “Sorry, I’m being depressing.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to apologize, Selphie.”

“I know,” she said. “But I am anyway. I’m supposed to be here to cheer people up, not make them even more sad.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to let yourself be sad, Selphie,” Nida said.

 _Maybe._ She started walking again. “About the report,” she said, pretending they had never stopped in the first place, “I’ll probably just get it from Seifer when we get to the office.”

He was there, a splint still on his thumb, crouching over the most intact piece of furniture. There were some documents on it he was rifling through, using the light from his phone to illuminate the words. When Selphie and Nida approached, he didn’t even look up at them, but he must have known who they were, because he said, “Look at this. Found it in one of the safes.”

Selphie leaned an arm on the table to read what he was pointing at. “These are student records,” she said. “What about them?”

“Look how many students applied to Garden all on the _same exact day_ ,” Seifer said. “That never happens. Not that many students. Not one day.”

“Just a coincidence?” Selphie said.

Seifer shook his head. “Look how many of them are from Dollet. What are the chances we’ll find the exact same thing at the other two Gardens?” He made an angry noise, kicked the desk, and walked a few paces away.

Selphie looked closer. “But it says here they all joined Garden right after the war, and all of them were from ages seven to twelve . . .” She gasped a little and then turned to Seifer. “You think Sanctus planted _kids_ here ten years ago? Made them go through Garden training just so they wouldn’t be . . .” Her hand curled into a fist. “No.”

Seifer looked over his shoulder at her. “How else do you read that? We need to contact Trabia and Balamb Garden and see if it’s the same there.”

“But, these kids have been at Garden for ten years. You really don’t think they’d form an attachment after all that time? Make friends? Maybe feel something for this place that’s been their home for the past decade?”

“Maybe a few, but if these kids were fuckin’ brainwashed . . .” He stopped himself.

_So . . . maybe they were? After all?_

“It’s easier when you’re younger,” he said, mostly to himself. He’d still been eighteen when Ultimecia had seduced him, but what he said still held true. If those kids had been taught from age seven, at the youngest, that Garden was bad and needed to be destroyed, then anything they saw, no matter how good, could be warped to be something evil in their mind.

_Like Mira. But Mira, you were here before the war too. You loved it at Garden. So why . . . so why, after all those years, could you be taken in?_

“So what do we do? We can’t just arrest all of them,” Nida said.

Both Selphie and Seifer looked at him in slight surprise. She’d almost forgotten he was there, again, as she was so prone to do.

“No,” Seifer said sharply, “we can’t. We need proof.”

“But you really think . . . ?” Selphie started, unable to finish.

“I _know_ ,” Seifer said. “I learned to trust my gut a long time ago, and I know what it’s tellin’ me now. Sanctus put children spies in Garden, and now that they’re all grown up, it’s the perfect time to launch their attack. Garden’s always been about working together, about loyalty, so of course they wouldn’t expect traitors from their precious, perfect little students.”

Selphie stiffened and clenched her jaw, but nodded. “They know Garden intimately. It’d be so easy. It _has_ been easy.”

“I can send a report to Headmistress Trepe,” Nida offered. “She’ll probably have a reply ready in the morning.”

“Good idea,” Seifer said.

Nida stared at him like he’d seen a ghost take corporeal form once again. He looked too shocked to say anything, so he just nodded, saluted, and headed out, leaving Selphie and Seifer alone in the dark office. Once he’d gone, Seifer turned his phone off, and they could only see what the moon lit up for them.

A slight breeze blew in, rather chilly for their location, but it was fitting.

_How can I fight an enemy that I thought was my ally for so long?_

_Wait, but . . . that’s how it was with Seifer._

_But I forgot him, because of the guardian forces . . ._

_And I don’t really know any of these kids personally . . ._

_But it feels so wrong._

“It’d just be easier if the leaders of this came out and fought themselves instead of using _kids_!” Selphie said angrily. “Why are they just hiding, huh? A bunch of Hynedamned cowards!”

Seifer’s eyebrows raised.

“You going to help me find every last one of them?” she asked him. “I can’t rest until I know Garden is safe. I know it’s not your home or anything, that you’re only doing this so you don’t feel so shitty about what you did in the war. You don’t have to make any extra effort than anyone else would. You don’t have to.”

Evenly, he said, “I know.”

“And _I_ know you just think of me as a friendly acquaintance. It’s easier for you, because you’re so distanced from everything. But I couldn’t be even if I wanted to. I tried it for ten years and now I see it didn’t really work. But it worked for you till I butted in,” Selphie said. “That’s not me apologizing or anything. Just, when I got a mission, I gotta finish it. I gotta do absolutely everything I can. So . . . that means bringing you along, because I know what you can do.”

“What you getting at, Tilmitt?” Seifer asked impatiently.

 _Coming out in a mess, as usual. Ugh, Selphie, don’t just throw up words._ She cleared her throat, put her hands behind her back, and stood straight and stiff. “I know it’s not supposed to be this way, but I want you to enter a contract with me. I’m a SeeD, it’s what SeeDs do, except ours is going to be mutually beneficial. You help me finish Sanctus, destroy the whole thing, and I help you forgive yourself for the war.”

Seifer gave her a somewhat bemused look.

“We need each other,” Selphie said. “I think I knew it from the day I saw you at the orphanage. And if you want to then go away and never see me again after we save Balamb, I don’t care. But for now, for _this_ \--” She held out one fist in front of her. “Let’s help each other, the very best we can. At least for old times’ sake, back when we were kids who had no idea what the future held in store for us.”

His slight bewilderment turned to a steely-eyed stare, and his mouth became a straight line. “I can’t answer that.”

Selphie waved her hands in front of her. “You’re right. Of course not. Ha. I should give you some time. I’ll wait till this is over, and then . . . then I’ll ask again, if that’s okay.”

He gave a curt nod and then said, “I’m gonna get some shut eye.”

“And take a shower? You look like a mess,” Selphie said.

He shook his head and headed towards the door. “Right back at ya, Tilmitt.”

Selphie turned back to the documents. Of course not all the students who applied were with Sanctus, they couldn’t be, even some of them from Dollet. And Selphie knew that wasn’t just some weak hope; she felt it in her gut, and though she didn’t pay as much attention to hers as Seifer seemed to, she knew its importance well enough.

She hadn’t meant to come up here and monologue at Seifer, but after seeing all the names, hearing his theory, and realizing it was very likely how Sanctus had infiltrated every Garden, she knew she had to give as much time and energy into stopping Sanctus as she could. They had to be stopped, fully and completely. Garden had to be safe. And Seifer had the qualities of a SeeD, even if he hadn’t passed the exam. He was intelligent and powerful, and that’s exactly who the task force needed. 

When she had originally drafted him, they’d never set a precise end date. But she’d thought he’d help with the immediate threat, feel good about himself, and then go home. He’d probably thought the same thing. After all, back in Winhill, she’d only mentioned _Trabia_. They were already at G-Garden, soon to be heading to Balamb. It was too much to expect him to stay on after that.

But she needed him. And maybe he didn’t need _her_ like she’d said, but it had sounded good at the time. Besides, her mind hadn’t really been working, leaving everything up to her mouth. She’d probably overwhelmed him, and she didn’t want to guilt trip him into staying longer, but every word, as messily as they’d come out, had been true.

 _This whole thing’s got me really worried, is all,_ she wanted to tell him now, _what with so many spies that others in Garden have probably grown to love and trust. So, just bear with me, I’m just--_

She cut that thought off.

_I’m just what?_

She slouched a little and put up a careless hand in the air. With a deep voice, she said, “Whatever.” 

_That’s what Squall would do. Ha._

Selphie straightened a little and gently folded her arms. “I’m just making sure the mission gets completed with as few casualties as possible,” she said in what she hoped was a good Quistis voice.

_Or--_

She jumped up in the air and curled a hand into a fist. “I just wanna get those bastards before they get anyone else!” She gave the air a few warning punches.

With a laugh, she relaxed her arms and clasped her hands behind her like she always did. “Sure been a long time since all of us were together in one place.”

 _Soon. When Balamb’s safe._ She looked at the moon. _Thanks for never losing faith in me, guys. I’ll repay every one of you. I’ll save Garden and make up for these ten years I’ve been gone._

“I promise!” she called out to nothing in particular.

She swiped the documents from the desk and headed to the elevator to get some real sleep. As the elevator moved down, Selphie gave a determined smile and clutched the documents close to her chest.

_This is why I’m a SeeD. I’m here to help the people I love. So I’m going to do it. Sanctus can’t stop me._

  


_The next day_

  


Like Nida had predicted, the next morning Quistis had already sent a reply:

_We’re working heavily to get our new security systems up and running. For now, investigate this new theory. Balamb and Trabia have forwarded all relevant materials. And please, remember to rest--and that’s not a suggestion. I look forward to seeing you three back at Balamb in several days’ time. Keep up the good work. It isn’t going unnoticed. Stay safe._

“Do you think that last part is because we walked right into a bomb?” Selphie asked as she finished reading. “Did you tell her that?”

“I wrote all pertinent information,” Nida said.

“She’s probably going to add a section to the handbook, something about knowing there’s a bomb and taking necessary precautions before haphazardly running in,” Selphie said.

Nida blinked. “Isn’t there already one about that?”

Selphie shrugged. “I don’t know. I read it seventeen years ago.”

“Seventeen? You should be keeping up with it every year,” Nida said, shaking his head in disappointment.

From behind them, Seifer cleared his throat. Once they looked back at him, he waved a pad in the air. “If you two’re done, there’s actually work to do. The records for Balamb and Trabia have the same pattern, all the Gardens are just off by one day.” He carelessly tossed the pad through the space between them and let it slide onto the desk.

“Garden probably figured everyone was joining because they defeated Ultimecia,” Nida said. “I mean, if I had known that many people applied to Garden at once, that’s what I’d have thought. For the opposite reason of why they actually joined.”

Seifer gave a wry smile and scooted his chair to one side of the desk so he could put his feet up on it. “Hey, what do you know . . . you are good for somethin’.”

 

Selphie put her hand over her mouth to try and hide her giggle.

“Well,” Nida said loudly, as if that would make it so Seifer had never spoken. “I guess we should all start looking at these records, right? Find some patterns.”

“I love patterns,” Selphie said, pulling up a chair and grabbing one of the pads.

“Great. Enjoy your love of patterns quietly then,” Seifer said.

Selphie looked at him, expecting a sarcastic face, but he was just looking down at another pad in his hand, a stupid smile on his face. She wiggled her nose, “humphed,” and then put her feet up on the desk too so their feet were almost touching.

Seifer glanced up the tiniest bit and then shook his head.

Nida just sighed and sat in a chair a little bit away from them.

The three of them delved into the records for hours, occasionally writing down things of note, but when Selphie finally looked over her entire page of scribbles, she couldn’t remember exactly why she’d written down half of things on there. She slapped it on the desk and then gave a huge, dramatic sigh. 

“My brain’s melting,” she said. “I need a break.”

Seifer didn’t glance up. “I’ll be here.”

“You need a break too,” Selphie insisted. “Has anyone eaten since breakfast?”

“I am a little peckish,” Nida said.

Seifer rolled his eyes and set his pad on the desk too. “Fine. I’m no closer than I was five hours ago, anyway.” He got to his feet.

Slowly, Nida also stood up. “You want my honest opinion?”

“No, we want your dishonest one,” Seifer said in a slightly scathing tone.

For once, Nida didn’t wince or cringe back. He just looked evenly at Seifer and said, “Honestly, I don’t think we’re going to find much here.”

The corner of Seifer’s mouth lifted. “I agree,” he said almost instantly, and Selphie looked at him in surprise. “Finding the students can come later. What’s important is that we know they exist. So, we get back to your precious Balamb and stop whatever they got planned there.”

 _Then we all go home?_ Selphie made a disappointed face, but got to her feet as well and nodded. “I agree, too. The fight’s at Balamb. We can’t afford to be so far away. And if Quistis insists we still need to rest, that’s what Rinoa’s place is for.”

The three of them looked between each other, then Seifer said, “So it’s agreed, huh?”

Selphie clenched her jaw and nodded again.

“To Balamb,” Nida said.

They gathered the materials they had, mostly for when Nida and Selphie, and possibly Seifer, moved on to finding the traitorous students. The _Ragnarok_ was still parked in the same place as they’d landed, as Garden staff had been too busy to ask them to move it. As the three of them were standing, waiting for the loading ramp, someone called Selphie’s name.

It was Irvine, running with his hand on his hat to keep it from falling off. When he started running faster, he let go, and the wind swept it off to the ground. He arrived at the trio, breathing heavily, hair wild from its run in the wind. When he’d fully caught his breath, Irvine put his hands on Selphie’s shoulders.

“You leaving already? Quistis said you were going to be here for a few days,” he said.

“G-Garden will be fine for now,” Selphie said. “We don’t think Sanctus’ next move will involve it. But we do think it’ll happen at Balamb, so we’re going where we’re needed. Hopefully so we can stop _one_ of these attacks before they happen.”

Irvine face screwed up, like he was about to cry, but he never did. “It’s just, we didn’t get to spend much time together.”

Beside them, Seifer made the tiniest noise of disgust. But he and Nida moved into the ship, the loading ramp securely down.

Selphie stayed where she was. “I know,” she said, putting her hand on his wrist. “But the mission comes first. And . . . G-Garden needs you here.”

“Ha, do they?” Irvine said with a wry smile. “I mean, I’m not the greatest teacher.”

“Maybe not . . . traditionally,” Selphie said slowly and gave him a lopsided smile. “But, when the immediate danger is past . . . all of us will get together. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

He tried to tip his hat, but ended up clutching air. He cleared his throat and smiled. “That sounds like a good plan, Sephy. Stay safe.”

“You sound like Quistis,” Selphie said.

“Not a bad thing at all,” he said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “Now, I better go get my hat before it blows away forever. These plains here are rather unforgiving.”

Selphie just smiled.

Irvine began backing away, waving, and only when Seifer called for Selphie to get to it did he finally turn away and begin running after his hat. Selphie put up a hand, indicating for Seifer to wait a little longer as she watched Irvine chasing his hat.

_Really, how did I survive away from all of them for so long?_

Selphie spun on her heel and hopped back onto the loading ramp. As soon as her feet connected, it started to rise. She watched Irvine’s image until they were separated by the _Ragnarok_ before turning to Seifer. The engines were on, which meant Nida was already ready for takeoff.

“I never really understood him,” Seifer said. “Even at the orphanage.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, that’s Irvine for you. But I love ‘im.” She walked past him towards the door, and he followed her all the way up to the bridge.

This time, Selphie sat in the co-pilot’s seat, strangely content to let Nida fly all the way back.

“You know, we never grabbed anything to eat,” Selphie said as she settled in, putting her feet up on the dash. “Seifer, you wanna go grab us all something from the kitchen?”

Seifer rolled his eyes. “You gotta stop making a habit of volunteering me for everything, Selphie.” But he turned back around and left.

“That was easy,” Nida said. 

Selphie watched the landscape get smaller as they gained altitude. “We’re not the only ones that are hungry.”

Nida smiled. “Ha, yeah. Hunger will do strange things to a person, won’t it?”

Zell came firstly to her mind and she smiled. Once they got back, she could finally spend time with him. “Yeah, it really does.”

They were silent for a second, then Nida glanced back at the door. “You know,” he said, too casually, “he called you Selphie.”

“It’s not the first time,” she said, closing her eyes and reclining her chair.

“I know,” Nida said.

She waited for him to say more, maybe an explanation, but when she opened one eye, she saw him looking straight ahead, intent on driving responsibly. Quickly, she closed her eyes again. _You’re just waiting for him to call you ‘Tadao’ aren’t you?_

Again, she fell asleep without meaning to, and about an hour and a half later when she awoke, there was a little plastic container with something that looked like chicken salad in it and a note with “This is all we had in the refrigerator.” She set her feet down, stretched her arms, and gently took the container from the dash.

Beside her, Nida said, “Good morning! Or should I say afternoon.” He chuckled. “Seifer left that for you. He left a while ago, don’t know where to. Not that there’s really many places to go on this ship.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said.

“It’s nice to see though!” Nida said.

She gave him a look.

Immediately, his face got red. “I don’t mean it like . . . watching you while you . . . Ahem . . . I only meant, you never really got a lot of sleep in the past, especially once we got to Esthar. How you managed off so little, I’ll never know.”

 _Not like I didn’t want to sleep more. I couldn’t. It’s different now. Going to sleep isn’t . . . isn’t bad._ She took the lid off the container and then looked around. “Did he bring any forks up or anything?”

Nida glanced over. “I guess not.”

Selphie rolled her eyes and put the lid back on. “Figures.” She slowly uncurled from the seat and then stretched her arms up high until her back popped.

“It always weirds me out when you do that,” Nida grumbled quietly. 

She just winked at him and then headed out to the kitchen to hunt for a utensil. Not that she really needed one. She was down with turning chicken salad into finger food, but only when she was alone. Carefully making sure no one was around, she took the lid off again and scooped up some salad with just one finger. She licked her finger clean and sighed in happiness.

As she was turning the corner to get to the kitchen, she ran straight into Seifer. Gooey salad landed right on his nice leather jacket, Selphie let out a little scream, and then covered her mouth. For a moment, all they heard was the sound of the container as it slowly slid down Seifer’s jacket, finally clattering to the floor when it ran out of salad. Her shoulders began to tremble as she struggled to keep in a laugh.

Seifer just looked down at his jacket, then his gaze moved to her.

She lowered her hand and bit her lip, trying to remain somewhat professional. “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s . . .” But he stopped and just stared at her.

“ _Ragnarok_ doesn’t have a washing machine,” she said.

“It’s just a jacket,” he said.

“Aw, but it’s a nice jacket. It was kind of rude for me to spill the food you got for me all over you, wasn’t it?” She lifted a hand to the mess on his jacket, as if she could start cleaning it, but then she gave a nervous chuckle and moved her hand back behind her neck. “In my defense, you didn’t give me a fork.”

Seifer’s brows furrowed, and he looked for a moment like he was going to get angry, but then he rubbed one of his temples and gave an exasperated noise that sounded suspiciously similar to a laugh. “Of course I did. _In my defense_ , you were asleep and I don’t even know where the damn utensils would be, all right?”

“All right,” she said, biting her lip harder this time to keep the smile away.

He turned around and started heading back to the bathroom. Of course, she followed after him. “How the hell did you become a SeeD anyway?”

“Advanced ship navigation whilst holding food wasn’t on the exam,” she said.

Seifer stopped and she almost ran into him again. He turned and gave her another exasperated look, but it looked eerily similar to a lot of looks that Irvine had given her over the years. It surprised her and she moved back a little, her face twisting into something she wished she had a mirror to see.

“Well, look, you’re not . . . following me to the--”

“Kitchen’s the same direction,” she said, already knowing what he was going to say. “Don’t worry.”

“I just . . . told you there wasn’t any food left,” he said.

She shook her head. “Uh huh, you think I’m going to believe that when you just admitted you don’t know where the utensils are? You just don’t know where to look. You don’t know this ship like I do.” She poked him in the chest and then when she noticed chicken salad on the tip, she licked it off. It was a shame for so much salad to be wasted on a leather jacket.

He must have noticed her bummed expression because he said, “All right, fine, just so you don’t think I owe you or something like that . . . I’ll help you look for some Hynedamned food.”

More exclamation points went off in her head. “Really? Are you really offering to help out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I just fuckin’ told you why,” he said.

“No, no,” she said. “It’s too late for excuses. I know the truth.”

“You want to find your own food?” he asked, looming over her.

She grinned up at him and put her hands between them. “Okay, okay, lead the way then.”

Rolling his eyes, and glancing at his jacket then her one more time, he turned and headed towards the kitchen this time.

It was only a tiny thing, added in about two years after the war ended. They’d added other amenities that made sense, like more bathrooms, some extra storage space, even a little room with some cots you could set up. The kitchen itself had a mini freezer and fridge, a sink, a few cupboards, and then some black, flimsy card tables that tried to look like elegant dining tables.

The fridge and freezer _were_ both empty, but Selphie was determined to find some food. Her stomach growled furiously at her, probably angrier about Seifer’s jacket than Seifer himself.

“There isn’t any vodka in there, by the way,” he said. “In case that’s what you were looking for.”

She cast him an annoyed look and searched through the cupboards.

“See?” Seifer said in a bored tone. “No food.”

“You give up too easily,” she said as she closed the last cupboard. “If it’s not in the kitchen, then we check the storage rooms.”

“It’s not food storage,” Seifer said as she walked past him and out the door. And yet, for all his skepticism, he still followed her out.

As they were walking down the corridor, the intercom came to life, a jingle followed by Nida saying, “Hey, Selphie, you have an incoming message from Rinoa in Balamb. You wanna take it up here or . . . ?”

She walked to the nearest com panel. “In the kitchen, please!” And then she walked back to the kitchen, heading to one of the screens above a table. Before she pushed “accept,” she took a few breaths. _Calm down, Selphie, it’s not like you haven’t talked to her a million times like this over the past ten years._ She glanced back to see where Seifer was and saw him leaning against the closest side of the doorframe to Selphie, his arms folded and his eyes trained on the ground.

_Right!_

The screen came to life at her touch, and Rinoa’s beautiful, angelic, shining, ethereal, goddess-like face smiled at Selphie from the other side. The camera was a little too close, but Rinoa must not have known. She waved and Selphie waved back, an intense sense of calm overcoming her. Rinoa had that effect, whether it was from being a good sorceress, or just by being Rinoa. It likely could have been both.

“Hey, there!” Rinoa said.

“Hey!” Selphie said, leaning forward a little.

“Oh, wow!” Rinoa giggled and looked over Selphie’s shoulder. “I’d heard Seifer was working with you, but I didn’t believe it until now!”

Selphie’s eyes bulged, surprised at how casually Rinoa was taking seeing Seifer for the first time since the war-- _since he threw her to Sorceress Adel._ But her eyes held true surprise and almost . . . she almost looked _glad_.

She moved a little so Rinoa could better see her ex. “Yep, that’s him. He’s all mad I spilled chicken salad on his jacket. Whoops.”

Seifer looked up, face scrunched up. He looked so uncomfortable, Selphie could practically smell his discomfort. “Rinoa,” he said curtly.

That just made Rinoa giggle again. “It’s actually why I’m calling.”

Discomfort and a little . . . what was that? Fear?

“I was out walking some of my dogs, like soon after you got to G-Garden, and I swear I saw Fujin and Raijin at the train station. They looked ready for some cold weather,” Rinoa said. At the word “dog,” some began barking in the background. A black nose pushed its way into the frame, along with a long, pink tongue that was keen on giving Rinoa’s face a bath. She laughed and gently nudged the dog away.

Selphie looked back at Seifer, who was no longer uncomfortable, but . . . Well, he looked like he didn’t know _how_ to feel. It couldn’t have been anything bad, because Selphie was sure he loved the two of them, even if he’d never say it out loud quite that way. It must have been just as long for him as it had for Selphie seeing her friends, outside of Irvine, in person. But he probably hadn’t even had _that_.

“I haven’t really seen a whole lot of them in some years. I know they lived here for a little bit after the war, but then they kind of left. This is the first time I’ve seen them in almost . . . what is it? Seven years?” Rinoa said. “Maybe they’ll come back and you can see them . . . I mean, if you want to.”

Seifer just shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been awhile.”

Another voice came through the screen. “Is that Selphie? Hey, is she coming back?”

Rinoa looked over at something just as the screen went all blurry with movement. The image took the form of Zell’s upside down face, and then they could hear Rinoa saying, “You’re holding the phone upside down, Zell.”

“Oh!” He righted it and then grinned. “You still owe us a visit, ya know!”

“We kind of got swept up in the task force,” Selphie said.

“I know, the bombings. It’s a Hynedamn mess. But I’m glad you’re coming back. I feel much better knowing you’re closer to all of us.” He moved the phone so much when he spoke it was hard to get a clear picture of anything.

Selphie smiled. “Same. Balamb really is the soul of the Gardens.”

“And us,” Zell said.

“Zell, you have to keep the phone still,” Rinoa was saying.

“Oh, oh, sorry.” The shaking stopped, and once again Selphie could see his wonderful face. “And you tell that Chicken-wuss behind you that he’s gotta play nice or I’m gonna kick him out of Rinoa’s house.”

“Very original,” Seifer said from the doorframe.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him,” Selphie said.

The phone moved again, accompanied with Zell’s incoherent noises of sadness, and then the screen was back to Rinoa, white-snouted Angelo at her side. “Good luck on your task force, Selphie. You’re the perfect choice to lead it. Garden’s in the safest hands.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

More barking sounded from the background until it was a cacophony. Rinoa laughed. “I got thirty hungry mouths to feed right now, and if I wait any longer they’re going to go crazy!” She brought the phone close to her face so she could kiss the screen. Then she waved again. “I’ll see you soon, Selphie.” She lifted Angelo’s paw. “Say, bye, Angelo!”

Angelo just licked her face instead.

Selphie held up a hand to wave and then the screen went dark. She turned in her chair towards Seifer. “I’m surprised you stayed in the room.”

“So am I,” he said with a little cringe. “Still, I guess it’s nice to . . .” He grunted. “Huh. Nevermind. I need to get this salad off my jacket before it starts to smell.” He turned and disappeared into the hallway.

“Then you’ll help me find food?” she called after him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he called back, then his footsteps faded.

Selphie rested her chin on the back of the chair and just smiled.

  


_A few hours later_

  


As soon as they started over Balamb, Selphie’s stomach did a few backflips. She knew there was no way Balamb would be attacked already, especially not so soon after Rinoa had contacted her. If there had been attack, _someone_ would have told them. Still, she sat on the edge of her seat, hands on the dashboards, eagerly looking for when Garden would appear, hopefully all in one beautiful piece.

“Balamb will be fine,” Nida assured her from the pilot’s seat.

Selphie said nothing.

“Hmm, they’re contacting us,” Nida said, looking at a flashing light on the dash. He flicked a switch, and then a voice came over the speakers.

“Attention _Ragnarok_ : due to new security measures, all incoming vessels are prohibited from approaching Garden. Set down outside of Balamb. There, a security team will inspect your vehicle. Only when you have clearance may you again proceed to Balamb.”

“We copy, Garden,” Nida said almost cheerfully.

The communication ended just as Seifer came up to the bridge, jacket-less and looking disgruntled. Rather than ask him about it then, Selphie just gave him a tiny smile in greeting and then looked out the window again. At least Garden was okay, or that message would have indicated otherwise.

“We can just take a car to Garden,” Nida suggested. “I don’t know how long the inspection will take.”

Seifer stood behind Selphie’s chair, arms folded. “What inspection?”

Nida answered--Selphie was too nervous to say anything. “They’re making us land outside the city and inspecting the ship before we can approach Balamb. I assume they’re doing that with any vehicle that has weapons.”

“We should go see Rinoa,” Seifer said, so sure of himself, and as if it wasn’t a big deal those words were coming out of his mouth.

Selphie physically jolted, and she twisted around to look up at him. “Sorry, say again?”

“I have a feeling,” he said.

When he said nothing more, Selphie and Nida cast each other looks and mutually shrugged.

A few moments later, Nida said, “Coming up on Balamb. I assume that temporary landing site is where they want us to go.” He brought the ship just above it, and then slowly lowered them down until they touched down with a light tap. He got out of the seat, turned off the engine, and made his way out without saying anything.

Selphie was slower about getting up. She looked at Seifer in concern, but rather than ask about his “feeling,” she asked, “Where’s your jacket?”

He just stood there, staring out the glass window with his arms folded and an intense expression on his face. Only when she asked him again did he look at her. “Lost cause,” he said. “We’re stopping by the train station before we go to Rinoa’s.” He unfolded his arms and started towards the door.

She followed. “Um, you wanna fill me in?”

They got onto the lift, and when it touched down, Seifer said, “How long does it take to take the train to Trabia?”

It was the newest train line on the globe, only completed a couple of years ago, and it was the fastest one, using a new train that weren’t being used anywhere else yet. “A day?” she guessed. “I haven’t actually taken it.”

Seifer stopped and rounded on her. “You, who loves Trabia and is obsessed with trains, hasn’t even ridden the new train from Balamb to Trabia?”

She frowned and got defensive. “I’ve been busy.”

“I feel like you’d have made the time,” he said and started walking again.

 _It meant coming back here._ She followed him out into the sunshine of the landing pad where Nida was talking animatedly with someone in Garden uniform. _That wasn’t an option for me when the line was completed. Things are different now._

They walked on by Nida out onto the temporary landing pad.

“But are you going to answer my question?” Selphie asked.

“What question?” Seifer said, holding a hand over his eyes to keep the sun out as he took in the little security operation Garden had established. There were about two dozen Garden personnel here, some of them SeeD, and others part of the weird, relatively new security force they’d formed just a few years ago that Selphie had never actually seen in use until now.

“You know what question,” she said.

Seifer looked over at her. “Fujin and Raijin.”

“What about them? That’s not an answer,” she said.

But they were interrupted when Nida came up behind them, a solemn expression on his face. He jerked a thumb back towards the man he had been talking to, who was now joining a group of Garden personnel as they entered _Ragnarok_. “They say it’ll be several hours to make a complete inspection. Maybe we should just take the rental car.”

“You go ahead then,” Seifer said. “Check-in with Quistis. Selphie and I have business here. When we’re finished, we’ll return with _Ragnarok_.”

Nida opened his mouth to speak, then looked at Selphie in confusion. When she just shrugged, Nida nodded to Seifer. “Then I’ll see you two later today. Good luck with . . . whatever it is you’re doing.”

Seifer just looked back at the personnel milling about the landing pad and their temporary tents, so Selphie saluted to Nida and he smiled.

When it was just the two of them again, Selphie said, “Before we take one step, you start talking. What’s going on?”

His expression darkened, and he said, “Fujin didn’t just blame the sorceress for how things turned out. She hated Garden too. After the war, she got a job in Dollet or something.”

Selphie noticed his tight fist at his side and turned away to face towards the town, her hands behind her back. “So you want to know if they were going to Trabia? But if they were . . . But if they’re Sanctus, why would they go to Trabia?”

“We left your friend Mira there, didn’t we?” Seifer said.

“Yeah,” Selphie said, and gave a sad laugh. “ _Friend_.”

_My old friend. Seifer’s old friends, maybe. Things really do change, don’t they?_

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Seifer said, starting towards the town.

They went first to the train station, a younger fellow who didn’t seem to recognize either of them. When Seifer asked for a list of all the departures and arrivals on the Balamb-Trabia rail in the last two months, he gave them a suspicious look.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out that information,” he said.

“Don’t make me come in there and get it myself,” Seifer said, leaning an elbow on the tiny ledge of the ticket booth. Selphie was sure that if there hadn’t been glass separating him and the boy, Seifer would have picked up by the collar and possibly pulled him over to the other side. It might have been secretly entertaining if it didn’t look like the boy was about to shit himself at the look Seifer was giving him.

Selphie cleared her throat and pushed an unsuspecting Seifer gently out of the way. “Hey, SeeD here.” She pulled out her ID, which he looked at only after giving an annoyed Seifer a hesitant look. When he nodded in acknowledgement, she continued: “I know this isn’t regular procedure, but you’ve heard about the recent attacks on Gardens, right?”

The boy nodded.

“We have reason to believe that two members of Sanctus have been working out of Balamb,” she said. “But we can’t be really sure unless we have that list, to see where they’ve been going.”

“Look,” the boy said, putting his hands in the air. “I get it, I really do, but I seriously can’t just do that. I’m new here, and I really need this job, okay? My boss will fire me for sure if I give out any information like that.”

Selphie slouched a little, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “Okay.” She set her hands flat on the ledge of the ticket booth. “Can I bribe you with lots of money?”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m loaded. I can give you whatever you need to be okay in case you get fired and have to find a new job.”

“But I could go to prison,” the boy said, his voice raising an octave.

Beside her, Seifer started chuckling. His anger had seemed to cool off at Selphie’s attempts to get the information, and now he pushed her out of the way. “Look, _kid_ , if you want, tell your boss that Seifer Almasy broke in, threatened your life, and then took the fuckin’ info, okay? He won’t fire you for that.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he shrunk back. “Seifer Almasy?” He gave Seifer a quick up-down and then nodded his head. “I’ll get it right away. Right away! Just, hold on a moment. It’ll take a few minutes, okay? I’m not . . . calling the--” He tripped over something, never finished his sentence, and then disappeared into the back.

“You didn’t have to _actually_ make him pee his pants,” Selphie complained.

“Well, we weren’t getting anywhere,” Seifer said. “Do you usually go around bribing people?”

Selphie shrugged. “I usually don’t have to. And I usually forget I have money to bribe people with in the first place.”

Seifer eyed her carefully. “Yeah? How much you got?”

“Hyne,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Last I checked it was about 68 million gil? I mean, most of it is in savings, and Garden has a really nice interest plan with their savings account.”

Seifer stared at her, then rubbed his face. “What the hell do you do all the time? Do you even spend money?”

“I spend money when there’s upgrades to my nunchakus,” she said slowly as she thought of all the expenses she had. “And food and new clothes. Sometimes gas, but in Esthar, I was reimbursed for that. Occasionally I went and saw a movie--or, that was work-related, so Esthar paid for those. Um . . .” She gave him an awkward grin.

He shook his head in disappointment and looked back to the ticket booth.

 _Actually, that makes me think . . ._ She looked at Seifer, how he was only wearing a t-shirt, his jacket probably in the trash on the _Ragnarok_. _Maybe I should buy him a new one. A real leather jacket. That’d only be, what? Thirty-five hundred gil at the most? That’s nothing. I spent that much at that bar on Kiros’ birthday last year . . ._

The boy came back and slid some printed documents through the slit. “There you go. Now please, just leave me alone, okay?”

Seifer grabbed the papers and did a two fingered salute from his forehead. “Sure thing, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” the boy called after them as they walked away.

“So, are you sure you wanna go to Rinoa’s? Last time I asked, you were, you know, ready to murder me or something probably. Or you would have been if I’d asked at least one more time.”

He smirked a little, but kept his eyes on the documents. “I don’t want to, but I’ll fuckin’ deal.”

“Well, that’s mature of you,” she said.

Now he looked at her. “Really? Saying that’s mature from _you_?”

“I’m not thirty yet,” she defended with a frown. “I can still have my moments of being a twenty-something, all right?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back to the papers. Selphie just watched him, occasionally looking forward to make sure they didn’t run into anything. He kept shaking his head as he looked over the names, obviously looking for two in particular and not finding them. Finally, he had shuffled through all the papers.

“Maybe Rinoa mistook someone else for them,” Seifer said. “It’s not in here.”

“Different name?” she suggested as they walked down the cobblestone curve that wrapped around the Balamb hotel. She knew where to go, though she hadn’t actually walked to Rinoa’s place until right then.

Seifer shrugged and started from page one. Just as he was about to shuffle to the third page again, he stopped and went back to page two. His eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on the paper until it was crinkled around his thumb--the one not in a splint, luckily.

“Hmm?” Selphie asked quietly, looking ahead.

“I’d almost forgotten . . .” He stopped, so Selphie did too, and she rounded on him.

“Forgotten what?” She sneaked a peek at the papers.

He didn’t answer her until he had shuffled through the rest of the papers, and then he frowned and looked at her. “Fujin and Raijin and I . . . after the war, we came up with fake names to use in case we were going anywhere we thought . . .” He shook his head and his hand holding the papers fell to his side. “Then this has to be them. They’ve been making a lot of trips in the past month. One a week before the Trabia bombing, and one just recently, where Rinoa saw them.”

Selphie just looked at him with concerned eyes.

“Makes me wonder where the hell else they’ve been. Wouldn’t be surprised if I saw a bunch of trips to Dollet,” he said.

“Well,” she said, “the evidence is thin, so I wouldn’t panic just yet. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Or maybe--” She put a hand on his arm to keep him from turning away. “Maybe they heard you were there and wanted to see you.”

Seifer scoffs. “Right, that _must_ be it. Why the hell would they go and join Sanctus?”

Selphie looked away at the ground and then out towards the direction of Rinoa’s house. “Do you still want to go to Rinoa’s? I doubt she’ll have any more information on Fujin and Raijin. I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”

“Yeah?” He looked at her, and for a moment, she could have sworn something like fondness in his eyes, but he looked away too quickly to be sure. “Are they expecting us?”

“Not . . . not really, I don’t think,” Selphie said. “At least, not you.”

“The inspection’s going to take forever,” he murmured.

She nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her to see it.

With an irritated noise, he said, “What the hell. Let’s just go.”

Selphie’s eyebrows would have raised off her face if they could. “Are you sure?”

Seifer lifted the papers in his hand, glaring at them, and in a moment they were consumed by a fire spell.

As they watched the ashes fall to the ground, Selphie said, “Do you still have Leviathan junctioned?”

He stared at his empty hand, still in the air, covered with ash. Quietly, he said, “I missed the feel of it.” With a sudden intake of breath, he dropped his hand and turned to her. “We going or not?”

She made a face but said nothing about how weird he was acting. Instead, she just started going again. Rinoa’s house and shelter were only about five minutes away, the closest house to the beach west of the hotel.

They walked for a minute in silence, Selphie now occasionally glancing at Seifer to make sure he was okay. He seemed stiffer than usual, eyes focused on the way ahead, but otherwise, there were no red flags yet. 

“You know,” Selphie said. “I think it’ll be fine. Rinoa and Zell are two of the best people I’ve ever known. But don’t worry: I’ll do all the talking if need be. And you know how good I am at that.”

The tiniest smile appeared on his mouth, but he said nothing.

She smiled too, openly, and then lightly punched him in the arm. “Don’t embarrass me.”

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. “Embarrass _you_?”

Despite how cool he was playing now, she knew this was hard for him. But it was good. Necessary. After all, once she’d finally seen him again and got out all her frustrations, things had been better with everything. Here she was, walking with Seifer casually to Rinoa’s house to spend some time with her old friends. And yes, there was the mission, and Sanctus, and Fujin and Raijin’s probable involvement, but at least for this moment, the next few hours, things were normal. Things were good.

Seifer would be good.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

They entered a shady lane flanked on all sides by looming trees. The road curved towards the beach, and then there was the walkway up to Rinoa’s front door. Just farther down was the shelter, but they headed to the door of the tiny cottage. They stopped just in front of its bright blue, painted wood an Selphie gave Seifer a determined look.

“Ready?”

He glanced at the door then nodded. “Fuck it, right?” He knocked on the door himself, loud thuds with his fist.

A few heart-pounding moments later, the door opened, and there, wrapped in a blue cardigan and wearing a long and full white skirt, was Rinoa.


	12. Chapter 12

Things inevitably changed with the passage of time. Whether it was minutes, days, weeks, or years, whatever it was a person left behind rarely stayed _exactly_ the same. Their closest friend changed their haircut, or their favorite cafe may have garnered a new layer of vines, creeping farther up its brick walls. The unexpected change makes the person feel unsettled, or discontent. After all, if something that had seemed so unerringly concrete before had transformed into something else entirely, it was now possible that _more_ had changed in the time they’d been away.

That was exactly what Seifer was experiencing right at this very moment. At first glance, he could’ve sworn that Rinoa hadn’t aged a day, that she hadn’t changed anything about her appearance over the course of a _decade_. She greeted them with that same warm, gentle smile that he’d been so fond of all those years ago. A smile that had, no matter how shitty of a day he’d been having, lifted his spirits and made him feel like he could take on the world. A smile that had driven him to throw protocol out the window and chase after her, consequences be damned. Now . . . Now it only filled him with a deep sense of sadness and regret.

It wasn’t so much that he wished he could travel back in time and do things differently, do things in a way that would guarantee they’d stay together until the end of their days. It was more so that, by his own hand and his own actions, he’d inadvertently pushed her into the arms of another man while simultaneously shoving what little good had been in his life down the garbage disposal.

Seemed like he was exceptionally good at doing that.

While Seifer was lost in the past, Selphie jumped forward and into Rinoa’s waiting arms with an exuberant squeal, yanking him out of his depressing reverie. As the two women grinned at each other and exclaimed how much time had gone by—as it inevitably does—he took the opportunity to inspect Rinoa a little closer.

He was surprised to find that his initial impression of her had actually been very, very wrong. She _had_ changed. The changes were just a little deeper than the surface. Around her soft brown eyes, there were newfound laugh lines that hadn’t been there before. They were far too young still to call them wrinkles, but he could tell that, after another ten years flew past, they would definitely be there. It was fitting. He couldn’t imagine Rinoa _not_ smiling or laughing at something.

Before he was even remotely ready, Rinoa pulled her gaze away from Selphie and then her eyes were trained on him. Seifer resisted the urge to look away, settling for shifting in place instead. He wasn’t afraid to lock eyes with her, no, but there was so much history between them now. What did he even say? How did she even feel about him being here?

The second her lips curved upwards in a hesitant smile, the tension seeped out of him. Funny how, despite how much time had passed, her smile could still do that. He felt like an idiot for practically leering at her, so he just nodded instead. Her expression fell into a frown, and she placed her hands on her hips with slightly narrowed eyes.

_Oh no. Here it comes_.

“Seriously, Seifer? It’s been ten years since we’ve last seen each other, and all you do is _nod_ at me?” Rinoa reprimanded him.

Seifer shrugged, trying to play his uncertainty off as nonchalance. “What did you want me to do, run over and jump into your arms like Selphie? Pretty sure I’d crush you.”

Selphie hid a laugh behind her hand. As Rinoa threw a mock glare her friend’s way, she said, “Don’t encourage him, Selph.” It was obvious she wasn’t actually angry, considering the way she was trying to suppress a smile.

Selphie waved her hand in the air. “He’d totally crush you, Rin. Look at him, he’s a giant walking muscle. Gotta weigh a ton.”

Seifer crossed his arms as he shook his head at Selphie. ‘ _Giant walking muscle’? The hell is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to be a_ compliment _?_

Before any of them could say anything else, a panicked shout came from down the hall, followed by a herd of furry creatures stampeding into the room. Seifer threw his arms up in an attempt to maintain his balance as he was swarmed by a variety of different dogs, all jumping up at him and barking nonstop.

“What the hell?” he shouted, trying to push an exceptionally ardent dog’s snout out of his crotch.

Selphie, of course, did the exact opposite. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around a large, fluffy white dog with a wide grin on her face. “Oooh, aren’t you just the cutest?!”

Another nose poked him in the ass, and he whirled around to push that dog away, too. It never ended. Where one moved aside, another filled its place. After a few unsuccessful attempts at crowd control, Seifer spun back around to demand that Rinoa contain her little army, except she was no longer standing in front of him.

He scanned the room and discovered that she was now over by the hallway, indeed trying to herd the dogs back in the direction they’d come from. When the majority of the critters were gone, Rinoa whistled for the white dog that was still by Selphie’s side. It looked over at Rinoa, and then back up at Selphie, all without budging an inch. Selphie reached down and scratched behind one of its ears, and it opened its mouth, tongue lolling out the side.

Rinoa patted her thigh and called out, “Boko, come on! Back to the yard!”

The dog—Boko, apparently—lowered its head and let out a pitiful whine, before looking back up at Selphie again. Selphie laughed and rubbed the top of its head. “It’s okay, Rin. Boko can stay. I kinda like him.”

“Kinda?” Seifer quipped, raising his eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, go on and tease, you big softie. I bet you’d _melt_ if a puppy crawled into your lap,” Selphie retorted, sticking her tongue out at him for a fraction of a second.

“First of all, I don’t have time for a puppy, and you sure as shit don’t either. Second of all, I wouldn’t _melt_.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.”

“I _wouldn’t_.”

“Uh huh,” she said, without looking at him. After crouching down to eye level with Boko, she cooed, “I bet he’d just want to cuddle you, and love you, and just give you all the big hugs, wouldn’t he?”

“I—” Seifer started to say, inching towards Selphie, when he was interrupted by a boisterous voice that came from behind Rinoa.

“Sorry about that, Rin! I opened the gate to the enclosure because I was gonna come inside and join you guys, and before I could shut it, the dogs just barrelled past me!

Rinoa laughed as Seifer turned back around. “It’s okay, Zell. We managed! Except for Boko, who seems to have taken a liking to Selphie.”

“Aw, Boko’s such a sweet—Holy Hyne! What the hell is _he_ doin’ here?” Zell exclaimed, pointing at Seifer.

Seifer paused in mid-step before shifting his weight so that he could plant his feet in place. “Hey, Chicken-wuss.”

“Come on, man!” Zell threw his arm out to the side as his face contorted in annoyance.

Under his breath, Seifer chuckled. “Calm down, I wasn’t bein’ serious. Consider it payback.”

“For what?” Zell exclaimed. “Even way back in the day, I’d never actually done anything to you!”

“That’s what made it so funny,” Seifer said with a shrug, unapologetic. “But I was actually talking about earlier today, when you tried to throw the term back on me during your little video chat with Selphie?”

“Aw, hell, you heard that, huh?”

“I was standing right behind her. Were you really expectin’ me not to?”

Zell rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze dropped. “I was kinda bankin’ on you not listening . . .”

“Guess I’m more observant than people give me credit for,” Seifer muttered. Judging by the wry smile on Rinoa’s face, she must’ve overheard him.

Another bark rang out, but this one was solitary rather than a cacophony of yelps. A moment later, a black, copper, and white dog bounded around the corner, coming to a stop right at Rinoa’s feet. When it saw Seifer, it tilted its head to the side, seemingly curious.

Seifer chuckled. It seemed like Angelo hadn’t changed much either. He patted his thigh, and Angelo let out a cheerful yip before racing to his side. Once she’d sat down at his feet, he bent down and scratched under her chin with a genuine smile.

“Hey girl. Been awhile, huh?” he murmured to her, and Angelo responded by closing her eyes and stretching her chin up so he’d have more access.

“Whaaaat?” Selphie sidled up to him and leaned around his arm. “Who knew you’d be good with dogs?”

He shrugged. “I’m not, really. But for whatever reason, Angelo’s always liked me.”

From across the room, Rinoa let out a laugh. “That’s an understatement! Sometimes I swear she liked you more than she liked me.”

Beside Rinoa, Zell crossed his arms. “This is weird.”

Seifer straightened, looking at Zell with a stern expression. “Only because you’re makin’ it weird, Chicken-wuss.” Zell opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Seifer looked over at Rinoa and said, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Rinoa nodded and gestured to the couches over on the other side of the room. “I kind of figured as much, judging by our conversation earlier. Let’s sit first?”

Once they were all seated—Rinoa and Zell on one couch, Selphie and Seifer on the other—Seifer didn’t waste any time.  “You said you saw Fujin and Raijin the other day?”

Again, Rinoa nodded. She clasped her hands around her knee, lifting her leg slightly off of the floor. “Mmhm. Like I said earlier, it was kind of unexpected because it’s been years since I last spotted them in town. I haven’t seen them again since, though.”

Selphie and Seifer shared a loaded glance, and when Selphie scooted forward on the couch, the side of her leg brushed against his. “Rin, can you think back and remember if you saw them, say, a little under a week ago?”

Rinoa’s brows cinched together and she looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Um . . . maybe? If I did, it definitely wasn’t a concrete like, ‘Look, there they are!’ but it’s possible?”

Beside her, Zell sat up quickly and pointed over at her. “No, Rin, you did! I remember! We went in to town to get some dog food from the general store, and when we stopped by Ma’s house, you said you thought you saw someone you knew!”

“Did I?” she asked absentmindedly, her gaze shifting to the side as she ran her fingers through Angelo’s long hair. A beat passed before her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! You’re right! When we were standing outside Ma’s house, I glanced over at the train station and thought I saw someone who looked like Fujin. The woman’s hair was a lot longer than I remember Fujin’s being, so I think that’s why I wasn’t sure if it was her, but not a lot of people have silver hair.”

“Yeah, you asked me if that was Fujin, and I said I had no clue,” Zell added. “It’s not like I talked to her much, before _or_ after the war.”

“Damn,” Seifer mumbled, falling back against the couch cushion.

There was a part of him—a large part—that wanted to believe that Fujin and Raijin were absolutely _not_ involved, that this was just a huge coincidence. That was why he’d wanted to come and see Rinoa so badly, so she’d prove him right and clear their names. Fujin and Raijin were . . . they were his family, the only ones to help him in his darkest hours, to stay by his side no matter the consequences—except for that one time, which there was no way he could blame them for that.

If they were Sanctus, if they’d done this to Garden, to all those kids . . . how could he forgive them?

Immediately after the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was hypocritical to wonder that. After all, even after he’d tried to destroy the world, they’d taken him in like nothing had happened, helped him heal, helped him transition back into the world. He knew he owed it to them to at least ask what they’d been thinking, why they’d believed this was an acceptable course of action. But . . . right now, in this very moment, he was struggling to find it in him to forgive and accept.

Is this how they’d felt in Lunatic Pandora? Had they looked at him and wondered the exact same thing he was wondering now? How had he willingly fired missiles at _kids_? Thrown all of the people he’d grown up with to the wolves and not glance back even once?

An immense amount of self-hatred coursed through him and he clenched his fists, barely even registering the pain emanating from his broken thumb. Who was _he_ to judge them and bring them in to answer for what they’d done, when he’d been no different during the war?

Feeling like he was suddenly trapped in a box, he leapt up from the couch and stalked over to the other side of the room, face contorted in anger. Behind him, he could hear Zell, Rinoa, and Selphie speaking in low tones, but he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to pick out what they were saying. It was likely about him, the three of them drawing metaphorical straws to see which one of them got to be the poor sap who came and comforted him.

He stared out the glass sliding door that he’d walked up to without really seeing, eyes watching the dogs as they ran around in their enclosure outside. Talking to Rinoa had instilled a sense of urgency in him. Earlier, he’d suspected, but not really believed, that perhaps Fujin and Raijin had been involved. Now, he _needed_ to talk to them, pick their brains apart, _understand_.

Without a word, he unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped outside, shutting it behind him. The murmur of conversation that had been in the background before gave way to innocent, lighthearted barking, the sound of pure happiness in its untainted form. Slowly, he made his way over to the enclosure and leaned against the wooden railing, watching the dogs bound around with glee. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself in the here and now, a technique that he had learned from Fujin in the immediate weeks after the war.

When he opened them again, Rinoa was standing beside him. He reeled back from the railing, almost losing his balance. “Fuckin’ Hyne, Rinoa,” he gasped. “Don’t just sneak up on people!”

She laughed and leaned against the railing he’d just vacated, propping her chin up on the heel of her palm. “You used to be more observant than that.”

_Pullin’ that card, huh?_ Seifer thought, before shrugging in response. “Been a long time.”

“Yeah,” she murmured as she straightened. After wrapping her fingers around the railing and leaning back, she added, “Yeah, it has.”

A few seconds passed and she still didn’t say anything else, so Seifer hesitantly leaned on the railing again. He looked over at her and studied her profile as she watched the dogs at play. Despite the slight hint of tension he’d noticed before, she still managed to look at peace, calm. It reflected the way she often made people around her feel, and it was the way he remembered her—at least, before the war, during their one shared, laughter-filled summer.

As the minutes ticked by and she still didn’t speak, he found that his previously burning anger had simmered; the Rinoa Effect had worked on him. He let out a heavy sigh and faced forward again, and it was then that Rinoa finally spoke.

“It’s Fujin and Raijin, isn’t it?”

Seifer clenched his jaw. “Are you asking whether they’re involved, or whether that’s why I’m pissed?”

“Both,” she replied, facing him head-on.

He shook his head vigorously, shoving his hands through his hair as he let out another sigh—this one was laced with frustration. “I don’t fuckin’ know. There’s so much evidence that says they are involved— _too_ much evidence. I don’t know what the hell to think.”

She didn’t say anything in response, but he could feel her eyes on him. Her touch on his forearm surprised him, and he jolted, his head snapping around to stare at her. A sympathetic look was on her face, and now that she had his attention, she let her hand fall to her side once more.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t—think about it, I mean.”

“How can I _not_?”

Rinoa shrugged, a rather uncharacteristic gesture on her part. “Sitting here and picking every little thing apart is only going to drive you crazy. You might as well shelf it, focus on what details you know for sure that’ll help you find them so you can ask them yourself.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “And what the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, why’d you betray me? Garden?’ or ‘Hey, why’d you kill all those kids?’ Wouldn’t that be a little hypocritical?”

She suppressed a smile, dropping her gaze briefly before looking at him again. “Maybe, but that’s not what matters.”

“What?”

She moved away from the fence, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Never mind. Hey, why don’t we—” She cut herself off and looked over at the enclosure. “Come on.”

Seifer watched Rinoa as she walked over to the gate and unlatched it, jerking her head for him to follow. He did, albeit reluctantly, and she closed the gate behind him once they were both standing inside the wooden fence. With a single whistle from her, all of the dogs started bounding in their direction, barking in excitement.

“Oh hell no, Rinoa,” Seifer said, moving back towards the gate.

“Uh uh uh,” she admonished, wiggling her finger at him. “Don’t you dare. Puppies make everything better, and even though this situation may actually be kind of crappy, at least right here, right now, you can forget.”

“I don’t want to be—” He started to say, but it was too late. All of the dogs surrounded them again, just like earlier. This time, though, they were in the dogs’ territory, and it seemed to make them braver, more aggressive with their affections. Knowing Rinoa and the way she likely trained them, they weren’t _really_ aggressive, but they were more than generous with their kisses.

He tried to pet a couple of them, but it seemed like a large majority of them were prone to jealousy. Whenever he’d touch one, it was shoved aside shortly after by another, and he was starting to lose count. One of them plowed right into the back of his knee and he buckled, catching himself by planting his hand on top of one exceptionally fluffy mutt. It barked, and before could regain his balance, another one bumped into him on the other side, knocking him over.

“Fuck!” he shouted as he went down. The second he hit the ground, the dogs clambered all over him and bombarded him with wet kisses to the face. “Rinoa! Get ‘em off!”

Off in the distance, he heard her giggling, but she didn’t seem to be moving any closer to him. He went to call out to her again, but a dog beat him to it and stuck its tongue in his mouth. Disgusted, he sputtered and rolled over, trying to block his face from their relentless affection. Still, Rinoa didn’t come to his rescue.

What felt like eons later, he heard Selphie call out to him from across the enclosure.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a large, _furry_ problem! Lots of ‘em!” she cackled.

With significant difficulty, he sat up, shoving a miniscule, short-haired mutt off his chest. “Damn it, Tilmitt! Get over here and help me!”

Instead of acquiescing to his request, she leaned against the railing, arms casually draped over, and watched him suffer with a wide grin. A dog the size of Angelo popped up out of nowhere and planted its paws on his chest, and down he went again. When he was trying to push it off of him, he realized it was the white dog that had taken a liking to Selphie earlier: Boko.

“Ah hell, instead of helping, she throws one more into the mix. Some ‘friend’,” he mumbled.

Resigned to his fate, he dropped his head onto the ground with a sigh. Of course, the second he did so, all of the dogs dispersed. Selphie’s head popped into view over him, grin still on her face. Without a word, she held out her hand to him. Doubtful that she could lift him—after all, he was ‘one big walking muscle’ and she was half his size—he grabbed it, but pushed most of his weight up with his legs. Apparently, she’d been expecting to exert the maximum level of her strength, and due to their combined efforts, he went flying towards her.

Selphie let out an “eep!” and he threw out his arms to try and stop himself from crushing her beneath him. While his efforts stopped his momentum, it did mean that he’d grabbed onto her tiny shoulders instead. They stood there for a moment, inches apart and frozen in surprise, until he dropped his hands and quickly took a step back.

“I—You’re so fuckin’ small that I thought—Shit. Are you okay?” he fumbled, shoving his hands into his pant pockets.

She let out a nervous laugh and tugged on a strand of her hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just wanted to, you know, help and all.”

“I got that.” They fell into an awkward silence, filled to the brim with tension. Seifer opened his mouth to stammer out another half-apology, when Selphie’s ringing phone cut him off.

She jumped slightly before patting down her pockets, finally pulling her phone out of the back left one. It slipped from her hand and they both lunged for it, almost knocking heads. He pulled back when she caught it with her opposite hand, and then brought it to her ear. “N-Nidaaaaaa. What’s up?”

Taking the opportunity to get a hold of himself, he turned away from Selphie while she talked on the phone. As he took a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair and stared back at Rinoa’s house, shaking his head at himself. _What am I, fifteen again? Why the hell am I so nervous? I’m acting like a fuckin’ idiot. It’s_ Selphie _. We’ve got other shit to worry about!_

When he was on his third deep breath, she stepped up beside him, attention still focused on her phone. “That was Nida. He says the _Ragnarok_ is ready.”

“Who?” he mumbled absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. Selphie opened her mouth to answer, but he moved away from her, heading back towards the house. “Let’s go, then.”

With a quick farewell to Zell and Rinoa, along with a promise that they’d return soon, they made their way out of town to join Nida. When they approached the temporary security checkpoint, they saw him standing under one of the tents with his hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for them as always. When he spotted them, he waved, and Selphie returned the gesture.

“That was fast,” he noted, once they’d arrived.

“We left as soon as we got your call,” Selphie explained. “We’re clear to return to Garden, right?”

Nida nodded, leading the way towards _Ragnarok_. “Since we were on the pre-clearance list, once we land on the pad, we can just enter Garden like we normally do. According to a friend, security has been amped up on-site, too.”

Once they reached the cockpit, Nida slipped into the pilot’s seat and flipped the engines on. Surprisingly, Selphie didn’t protest, just stood beside Seifer where he stared out the window at Garden up ahead. They lifted off a few minutes later and Nida expertly maneuvered the ship over to the landing pad on the other side of the island. After circling around once, he set down gently and powered down the engines. With a flourish, he spun the chair around and announced, “That’s that! Let’s head down.”

Seifer rolled his eyes at Nida’s perpetual cheerfulness—he and Selphie made quite the pair. Despite the odds being against them, what with two out of three Gardens already falling prey to Sanctus’ plans, neither one of them seemed to have trouble with remaining optimistic. Seemed like he was the only one who kept thinking of the worst, going over every possible scenario that ended in flames and more unnecessary death. He knew it was torture, masochistic even, to keep picturing Fujin and Raijin at the helm of every one of those bad scenarios: Fujin and Raijin standing behind Quistis, tears in the former instructor’s bright blue eyes, a knife at her throat; Fujin and Raijin flipping the switch on a bomb large enough to level Balamb, spewing false words that would be the last he’d ever hear them speak; Hyperion impaling the both of them in the name of justice.

He cringed at that last visual and Selphie looked over at him, her brows drawn tight with concern. It was dark in the tunnel, and he was surprised that she could even see him well enough to know he’d visibly reacted to his own morbid thoughts. She must have been standing close enough to him to feel him curl inward. They walked in silence, their steps echoing back to them. None of them seemed willing to say anything; all of their thoughts were likely on the impending events.

When the tunnel began to slope upwards, Seifer’s steps slowed. He knew that time was of the essence, but there was this tight, undulating ball of dread in the pit of his stomach. Since they’d left Rinoa’s, his worst fears and thoughts had spiraled, and he was now expecting the worst. It was no longer that he suspected Fujin and Raijin were involved, he simply _knew_. He knew it as well as he knew them— _had_ known them. Because of that knowledge, even though he knew they needed to be confronted, stopped, he was . . . afraid of being the one to do it.

Could he? _Could_ he bring them down, save people by killing those he loved the most?

A ghost of a touch brushed against his pinky and he started, pulling his hand away. When he looked over at Selphie, she had an uncertain, almost embarrassed look on her face. It was then that he realized she’d reached out to him, tried to comfort him by holding his hand. Even when he didn’t know what he wanted or what would make him feel better, she seemed to have this uncanny ability to sense that. And he’d pulled away like an asshole.

“Sorry,” Seifer mumbled, quietly enough so that Nida wouldn’t hear. “I didn’t mean to—My mind is all over the place right now.”

“I know. That’s why I did it. I can practically see you thinking,” she whispered back.

Her method had worked; his mind was no longer on how this night would likely end. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Thanks.”

“Sure. You owe me now,” she quipped, mirroring his expression.

Seifer scoffed at Selphie’s response as they approached the door to the parking garage, now guarded by a uniformed SeeD. He held out his hand to stop them, and Nida stepped forward.

“SeeDs Nida and Tilmitt, and Seifer Almasy. We’ve been pre-approved by Headmistress Trepe for entrance.”

“I.D., please,” the other SeeD demanded.

Selphie and Nida flashed their I.D. cards, and when the other SeeD looked at Seifer, he simply pointed to the scar running diagonally across his face. “This I.D. enough for you?”

The SeeD visibly paled. Quickly, he turned around and swiped his own I.D. card before holding the door open for them. “Go on through. You’ll have to pass the second checkpoint at the end of the hall before you can officially enter Garden.”

“Got it,” Nida said, and once they’d crossed the threshold, the door shut behind them with a final click.

True to the SeeD’s word, at the end of the hall, two metal detectors had been set up with accompanying tables beside them. There were two other SeeDs stationed at the checkpoint, and when they saw them approaching, they faced them with a sharp salute.

“Please halt,” the brunette instructed. “Any and all weapons must be placed on the table for inspection, and then please pass through the detector.”

Selphie scrunched up her face. “You really don’t recognize us? Quistis should’ve approved us for pre-clearance.”

This time, it was the blond on the opposite side that spoke. “We’re sorry for any inconvenience, SeeD Tilmitt. While the Headmistress has indeed cleared you, you still have to go through the inspection.

Selphie let out a drained, discouraged sigh, before stomping through the detector. Her “test” went off without a hitch, and she spun around, waiting for Seifer and Nida with her arms crossed. Nida looked over at Seifer, and he supposed it was his turn now.

He’d been an idiot and had left Hyperion behind with their things in Trabia. No weapon made for a rather fast inspection, and he waltzed through the detector. He could understand why Selphie was so miffed; sure, these SeeDs should’ve let them pass on recognition alone, but if Quistis had said everyone was subject to the inspection, then everyone was subject. That’s just how it was.

Once all three of them were through, the blond stepped forward and said, “We’ll have to pat all three of you down as well. Even though the detector didn’t go off, we’ve been instructed to subject everyone to a thorough search.”

“That won’t be necessary,” a woman’s voice called out to them from across the lobby. It was followed by the sharp clicking of heels against the marble floor, and the trio faced the newcomer.

All four SeeDs immediately snapped to attention, saluting Quistis as she approached. Almost nonchalantly, she waved them off and came to a stop in front of them. “SeeD Barrett, SeeD Wilson, you’ve done a fine job. I’ll take SeeDs Tilmitt and Nida from here.”

“What about Seifer Almasy, ma’am?” the blonde asked, his tone sharp. It was obvious what he thought about Seifer being present in Garden, probably because of the particular situation. Seifer was a little miffed about being referred to when he was standing right beside the guy; he was sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“He’s been authorized,” Quistis said, equally as brusque. Her tone did the trick; the blond offered another crisp salute as his only response.

With a wave of her hand, Quistis led the gang away from the checkpoint. All around them, numerous SeeDs ran to and from their security stations with their weapons strapped to their bodies, on high alert. They all piled into the elevator and after scanning her access card, Quistis pressed the button for 3F. It was a silent ride, filled with uncertainty and tension; everyone was lost in their own thoughts, trying to come up with a plan that would save Balamb Garden. After too long, the doors slid open again and they all filed out after Quistis.

Xu greeted them with a salute. “Headmistress. The debriefing room has been prepared for you.”

“Thank you, Xu.” Quistis offered a nod in lieu of a salute, and led the group to the same room they’d used before.

Once everyone was settled in their respective seats—Quistis at the head of the table, the trio in the same seats they’d chosen last time—the debriefing began. Nida spoke for most of the hour, repeating information about Trabia and Galbadia that he’d already outlined in his report. Every time he tried to gloss over something, Quistis would insist that she needed the verbal confirmation, likely to ensure that the reports hadn’t been tampered with by Sanctus. If they could infiltrate Garden with spies so easily, who’s to say they couldn’t have been tampering with correspondence, too?

When he finished, Quistis shook her head, gaze trained on the table. “Sending children in as spies . . . I never would’ve thought that Sanctus could stoop _this_ low.”

Seifer scoffed and muttered, “Like were we any different?”

Her eyes darted up to meet his, and a frown marred her normally beautiful features. “I . . .” She trailed off, ending her sentence with another shake of her head. After letting out a deep sigh, she then looked over at Selphie, asking if there had been any new information or developments that Nida hadn’t covered.

Unknowingly, Seifer cringed at the question, and Selphie glanced over at him, uncertain. He didn’t speak, so Selphie faced Quistis again. “Well . . . it’s not concrete, but we may have found _something_.”

Quistis gestured for Selphie to continue, but she was interrupted by the opening of the door. Squall slipped into the room, nodding in apology to Quistis. After she returned the motion, Selphie cleared her throat and continued.

“So while the new security team was inspecting _Ragnarok_ , Seifer and I stopped by Rinoa’s to say hi to her and Zell.” Beside Quistis, Squall’s expression darkened and his eyes flickered towards Seifer, though he didn’t say anything. “It might not be much, but we found records showing that Fujin and Raijin had traveled to Trabia right around the time of the first attack.”

Quistis cinched her eyebrows in confusion. “Fujin and Raijin? I . . . No one has mentioned them, or even really seen them, since the end of the war. Except for you, Seifer, I’m sure.”

All he did was shrug, and Selphie kept going.

“Right, that’s why it was kind of weird. Rinoa mentioned that she’d seen them leaving town, dressed for cold weather. So Seifer decided it was a good idea to have the train station pull departure and arrival records. They were on there, multiple times, under aliases.”

For a moment, Quistis was silent. Then, she asked, “Were there records of them heading to Galbadia before that attack?”

Selphie looked over at Seifer, and he cleared his throat as he sat up in his chair. “No. Their trip to Trabia, which is when Rinoa first saw them, was the last record. But she swears that she saw them again in the last week.”

“Do you still have the records?” Squall asked. “We should have a specialist analyze them for more evidence.”

Seifer grit his teeth. “No. I—They’re gone. But it shouldn’t be hard to have them pull it up again.”

Squall’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. To Seifer, it looked like his former rival was disappointed in him, or almost as if he’d expected Seifer to not follow through with his lead, and it rubbed him the wrong way. But, it was also entirely possible that Squall was simply being Squall, and Seifer was reading into his reaction too much. Old times were old times, after all. Perhaps the stoic commander had changed, too.

Quistis rose from her chair and propped her fingers up on the table. “Well, if that’s the only lead you three have discovered, let’s make the most of it. Seifer, Selphie, see if you can find any information on Fujin and Raijin’s current whereabouts, or any more records on where they’ve been since the attacks have happened. Nida, pull the records for all personnel coming in or going out of Garden in the past week. We can have our analyst cross-reference those with the train records and see if any other anomalies show.”

The three of them rose, following Quistis’ example. She offered a salute, which Nida and Selphie returned, and then she and Squall left the room. Nida faced them and said, “I’ll meet up with you guys later. Let me know if you find anything."

Seifer nodded, and then it was just he and Selphie left. They shared a heated look; Selphie seemed to understand, better than he’d anticipated, how he was feeling right at that very moment. Before this whole fiasco and their somewhat forced partnership, he would’ve never guessed that they had so much in common: nightmares haunting them since the war, the tendency to latch onto busy work, their defense mechanisms and pushing people who cared about them away. Now, after Mira, and possibly Fujin and Raijin, it seemed like that list just kept growing longer.

_Of all people. I never would’ve expected_ her _._

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Selphie glanced over at the door and then back at him. “Let’s go find them,” she stated, with a firm nod.

He returned the gesture, and they headed back down to the lobby, figuring that was a even, neutral place to start. They’d barely rounded the corner from the stairs when a white, blinding light flashed across Seifer’s vision.

“Fuck,” he cursed, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes, though it was a bit too late for that. He didn’t stop in time and plowed right into Selphie’s back, due to his temporary blindness, and she echoed his sentiment.

On reflex, his arm shot out and he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back upright. One problem fixed, one to go. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. From his left, he heard someone exclaim, “Awesome!” before running off.

“Hey!” Selphie yelled after them. “Don’t run away from me!”

Though everything in his vision was still a little washed-out, for the most part, he could see normally again. Someone must’ve set off a camera flash _right_ in his face for his eyes to be so fucked up for such a long amount of time.

“The hell was that about?” Seifer asked, throwing his hand up in the air in the guy’s direction.

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna go demand answers!” Selphie exclaimed, sprinting off after the kid.

He let out a short sigh before racing after her. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Selphie was a marathon runner, what with how fast she caught up to the “culprit”. When he finally joined them, she was already in mid-tirade.

“What were you _thinking_ , asshole?! Garden is basically on lockdown due to a terrorist threat. You can’t just go around snapping pictures in people’s faces and scaring the hell outta them!” Even though she was practically half his size, Seifer had to admit that, when angry, Selphie _was_ a little intimidating.

Apparently, the culprit agreed. He shrunk back from Selphie, face twisting up in supposed regret. “I’m sorry, SeeD Tilmitt! I just . . . I saw him, and—” His eyes flickered to Seifer. “—I had to take a picture.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ celebrity, kid,” Seifer said, from between clenched teeth.

“Well, I mean, kinda . . .”

Selphie poked him in the chest—pretty hard, too, judging from the way the kid staggered back. “Well from now on, _don’t do it anymore_!”

“Yes, SeeD Tilmitt! I promise! I just needed his picture to complete the trio, but I swear I won’t—”

Seifer stepped closer to them. In a low, threatening voice, he asked, “The trio?”

The kid sputtered, staring up, and up, at Seifer with wide eyes. “U-Uh, yeah . . . You used to head the Disciplinary Committee, right? Way back before the war? Before you—uh, yeah. Before the war?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I figured since I saw the chick with the eye-patch and the super tall dude with the frickin’ huge arms earlier, that I—”

Seifer lunged for him, grabbing his lapel and yanking the kid closer. When they were nose-to-nose, Seifer spat, “You _what_?”

“I-I-I saw them! Earlier! I’m not making it up, I swear!”

“Show me, damn it!” Seifer let go of the kid long enough to give him time to fumble for his phone.

After almost dropping it twice, he finally pulled up his gallery and turned the phone around. Seifer had to reach out to grab it, the kid was shaking so hard. Sure enough, it was a side profile of Fujin and Raijin, walking through the lobby of Balamb Garden. Fujin’s hair was longer, like Rinoa mentioned, but the unique color of her hair and her eye-patch were a dead give-away. There was no one else that looked quite like Raijin either—didn’t have the same stature or sheer mass.

There was no doubt about it. They were as involved with Sanctus as Mira was.

Seifer dropped his hand to his side. Everything that had been pushing him forward, kept him strong, kept him _going_ , seeped out of him. How could they do this? To Garden, to _him_? Without a doubt, there was only one way this day could end, and even more than before, he wasn’t sure he was capable of dealing the final blow.

Selphie walked up to Seifer, a bitter, sorrowful, but understanding expression twisting her features. Hesitantly, she reached out and slid her fingers over his, taking the phone out of his hand when she pulled back. One glance was all it took to confirm the same thing that Seifer now knew, and she led her hand fall, too, holding back a sniffle.

The kid shuffled forward, reaching out towards them for a moment before he changed his mind and stepped back again. “Can I—Can I maybe have my phone back?”

With quite an impressive glare, Selphie whirled around and chucked the phone back at him. He exclaimed in surprise, but caught it against his chest, before backing up even farther. Before he could run away again, Seifer looked up at him sharply. “Wait.”

“W-What is it?” the kid stammered.

“Which way did they go? Did you see?” Seifer demanded.

“Uh . . . I—I’m pretty sure they . . . they were heading that way, I think?” the kid replied, pointing behind him to nowhere in particular.

“Damn it! You have no fuckin’ clue, do you?” Seifer shoved his hands through his hair, and a spike of panic lanced through him.

Selphie’s glare deepened. “If you ever want to make SeeD, you’re gonna have to learn how to pay better attention than that! Security was upped for a reason, you idiot!” She ran past Seifer, grabbing the bottom of his sleeve and pulling him along with her. “I gotta call Squall and Quistis!”

“What about Nida?” Seifer asked, breathless as they sprinted back towards the elevator.

Selphie skidded to a halt, her head twisting around almost comically fast. “Wha—Since when have  you known his name?!”

Seifer scoffed as he too came to a stop. “Since always.”

She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head vigorously, as if shaking herself out of it. “Never mind! Come on!”

As soon as the elevator released them, Selphie sprinted through the double doors leading into Quistis’ office. Luckily for them, Squall, Xu, _and_ Nida were also in there. Their arrival interrupted whatever discussion the four of them had been having, and they faced the door in surprise.

“Quistis! Quistis, we need to see the camera footage!” Selphie yelled, stomping her foot for emphasis. “Stat! A.S.A.P! Right now!”

Quistis blinked at them. “Uh, whatever for, Selphie?”

“Some punk took a picture of me when we got down to the lobby, and it turns out he fuckin’ _saw_ Fujin and Raijin earlier today,” Seifer explained, his chest heaving still.

“A picture?” Xu asked with an eyebrow raised, at the same time Squall said, “Wait, earlier today?”

“Yes and yes,” Selphie gasped, moving around Quistis’ desk as the headmistress sat down and wiggled her mouse.

A few seconds later, Quistis had the footage pulled up on the screen. Seifer edged around the desk as well and leaned down beside Selphie, his brows furrowed in concentration. Quistis set the speed to two-times as fast so they could get through hours of footage a little bit faster.

As soon as Seifer saw the top of Fujin’s head move into view from the bottom left, he slammed his hand down on the desk. “There she is!”

He must’ve surprised Quistis, because she accidentally paused the video. After glancing sidelong at him, she pressed the play button again. Fujin moved farther up the main bridge from the entrance, Raijin right at her side as per usual. When they walked past the directory, the kid who had taken a picture of Seifer appeared at the top of the screen, likely coming down from the dorms. He was glued to his phone, hardly paying attention to his surroundings until Fujin and Raijin brushed past him—literally. Raijin’s shoulder bumped into the kid, and when the kid looked up, his jaw dropped in surprise. Frantically, he lifted his phone and must’ve snapped a photo. Surprisingly, neither Fujin nor Raijin noticed.

They disappeared down the hall towards the Infirmary, and Quistis shook her head in confusion. “Why the Infirmary? There are no students admitted right now, and aside from patients, Dr. Kadowaki is the only person present at all times.”

Seifer straightened, crossing his arms across his chest. An ominous sense of dread overcame him, and he asked, “Does Dr. K have full access to Garden?”

Squall looked over at Seifer sharply, his brows furrowed. “Yes, she does.”

Selphie gasped and covered her mouth. “You don’t think they hurt her, do you? Not Dr. Kadowaki!”

Nida hurried towards the door, shouting over his shoulder, “I’ll go check on her! You keep looking through the footage!”

Hastily, Quistis reached for the mouse and fast-forwarded through the footage. Shortly after, Fujin and Raijin reappeared, and this time, they headed for the elevator. A few seconds later, the elevator moved down and out of sight.

“Down?” Seifer muttered to himself.

Squall cursed under his breath, surprising Seifer. “The MD level.”

“The hell is that?” Seifer turned around, leaning back against the top of the desk.

“It’s where all of the maintenance happens. The mechanism for making Garden mobile, the electricity, the hydraulic system—all of it,” Squall explained, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would they go there, and not plant the bomb in the headmaster—or in this case, the headmistress’—office? Why not follow the precedent _they_ set?”

No one said anything, until Selphie sucked in a sharp breath. She turned and looked at Seifer, her face pale. “You! You said Balamb was the soul. It’s the center of everything, the biggest Garden. They don’t want to just take out the headmaster this time, they want to take out _everything_. They’re gonna blow up the entire thing, finish what you started—or tried to do—during the war!”

As soon as Selphie spoke, Seifer braced himself on the edge of the desk. She was right. One-hundred percent right. All of those times after the war that he heard Fujin blame Garden for the way their lives had ended up, for the way they’d treated Seifer, for literally every single bad thing that had happened in the world . . . What other reason could it be? What other goal could they have?

“Holy fuckin’ Hyne,” he gasped, his head dropping onto his chest.

“Squall, can my card get us down to the MD level?” Selphie asked.

Squall shook his head, but pulled his own key card out of his wallet. “No, but mine will. There’s a maintenance crew down there usually. The fact that we haven’t heard anything from them by way of warning is not a good sign.”

“No, it’s not,” Seifer agreed, shoving off the desk and moving to follow Selphie out of the office.

Quistis pushed out of her chair in a hurry. “Wait! Your weapons. Trabia sent over all of your things that you left; Hyperion and Strange Vision are with them.” She pointed to the couch on the other side of the room, and Selphie sprinted over to it.

As she was rummaging through the bags for their weapons, Quistis pressed a switch on the underside of her desk. A shrill alarm rang out through the room, causing Seifer to wince at the sudden, sharp sound. Quistis and Squall breezed past them, and before they ran out the doors, Quistis paused.

“We’ll take care of the evacuations. I—Selphie, Seifer . . . be safe,” she said in an emotional voice. Then, like a switch was flipped, her expression tightened. This time, in a more stern voice, she said, “Stop them.”

Selphie offered a firm salute in response. Quistis and Squall took the elevator down first, and Selphie walked over to Seifer, holding out Hyperion to him. His gaze traveled along the sharpened, polished blade, lamenting the fact that the first action it would see in years, besides monsters, were people he’d once called family. With a heavy heart, he placed his hand over Selphie’s and took the gunblade from her.

“I’m not gonna let them get away with this. I can’t,” he muttered, his gaze still trained on his weapon.

For a second, Selphie was silent as she stared up at him. When he finally looked up and met her eyes, she held his gaze with a startling level of intensity. “Then let’s go stop them.”

Unable to break away, he stared at her, noticing with odd, ill-placed timing that her eyes were such a vivid, compelling shade of green. _That’s right. I noticed that for the first time at the orphanage, I think . . . How the hell did I never notice that before?_

It was Selphie who finally moved past him, spurring him into action. Once they were in the elevator, she scanned Squall’s keycard and pressed the button for the MD level. With a groan, the elevator headed down into Garden’s depths. The usual choice of elevator music—classical piano—was replaced with a repeating message that alternated with a blare of the emergency alarm: “All Garden students and personnel, please evacuate. This is not a drill.”

They shot past the lobby; a herd of staff and cadets were lined up at the front entrance, waiting to file out. Just before they moved between floors again, Quistis and Squall sprinted past the elevator, likely hurrying to ensure everyone got out. Then their view out the glass doors went dark again, peppered by the flash of fluorescent lights.

As they rode in silence, Seifer looked over at Selphie. She was staring out the doors with a grim expression, her hand gripping Strange Vision so tightly that her knuckles were white. When she felt his eyes on her, she looked up at him with a silent question in her eyes.

“Have you been down here before?” he asked, his voice quiet. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the need to whisper.

Selphie shook her head, facing forward again. “No, I—When Squall got Garden moving, I was . . . at the missile base.”

_Hynedamnit. Of course she was._ “Oh. Right.”

“I have no idea what we’re walking into,” she mumbled, sounding uncertain for the first time today. “I have no clue what it looks like down here, I have no idea what happened to the maintenance crew . . . Nothing.”

Seifer grit his teeth. “Yeah, me neither. Whatever it is, whatever we see . . . we have to stop them.”

Selphie looked back over at him. “I know.” A beat passed before, in an even quieter voice, she asked, “Do you?”

His eyes slid shut, and he shook his head, unable to reply. The elevator announced their arrival and they stepped out onto a metal walkway, their footsteps ringing out against the steel. The evacuation alarm must’ve flipped off the main overhead lights, because the entire level was awash in amber. On the far wall, the little emergency light flashed white and red, illuminating everything in the room before throwing eerie shadows onto them.

Seifer stepped forward first, holding out his arm in front of Selphie. They crept forward, him constantly fighting to remain ahead, while she kept pushing his arm out of the way. A few feet past the elevator, the first body appeared. Thankfully, it didn’t look mutilated or unrecognizable; if Seifer had to guess, the guy looked like he was just asleep. A quick check of his pulse revealed the opposite to be true though, and he rose to his feet again, shaking his head at Selphie.

Her expression darkened, and they continued on, farther into the dark. Another body appeared, and then another. With each subsequent casualty, Seifer’s jaw clenched. _Will it ever stop? Will_ they _ever stop? . . . Is this how they thought about me, towards the end?_

When they reached the bottom of the long staircase, a giant steel pillar stretched upwards in front of them. They both followed it all the way up to where it disappeared into the ceiling. Selphie said, “That must be one of the pistons that works the flying mechanism.”

“Piston?” Seifer echoed.

She shrugged, looking back down at him. “It’s basically a giant engine—or so Zell tried to explain to me.”

Seifer looked over to their left, tracing the path around the room. “Where the hell do we go from here? Where do you control this ‘engine’?”

Again, she shrugged. “Should we split up and try to find them?”

“No,” Seifer rebutted, immediately. “We stick together. Let’s try this way,” he suggested, moving past her to the right.

"After you,” she quipped. Seifer chose not to respond.

Before they knew it, they’d come full-circle. Standing in the exact same spot as before, Seifer propped his hands on his hips and glared around the room. “Where the _hell_ are they? The bodies confirmed our guess, so why haven’t we run into them yet?”

Selphie shook her head, seemingly equally as discouraged. Her eyes drifted past him, and without warning, she leaped toward him. He caught her, his hands cupping her elbows as he reeled back in surprise. “What the he—”

“Down there!” she hissed, pulling him down into a crouch beside her. As she pointed behind him, she whispered, “Look!”

Seifer twisted around, staring in the direction she was indicating. Down below, on a small ledge overlooking what looked like a turbine, stood Fujin and Raijin. Raijin was standing at the panel, hitting a bunch of buttons, while Fujin was crouched down beside him, fiddling with something underneath the panel.

They were too far for Seifer to see them clearly, so he leaned over and murmured, “What are they doing?”

“I . . .” Selphie trailed off, glancing up at him in concern. They were so close, he could see the slight sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I think she’s planting the bomb.”

“Fuckin’ . . . _damn it_!” he spat, followed by a loud exhale.

Selphie pressed her finger to her lips, and proceeded to shuffle towards the railing. There was a small divot in the metal, and after she pulled a lever, it slid open to reveal a skinny ladder that presumably led down to the control panel—to Fujin and Raijin. Quickly, but quietly, they made their way down the ladder and along the narrow pathway.

When they stood just a few feet behind Fujin and Raijin, they paused. Seifer stood there, staring at the back of his friends’ heads, his expression neutral. The slight curl at the ends of Fujin’s hair, the white scar on the back of Raijin’s left shoulder; they were familiar to him— _so_ familiar—but at the same time, as he watched them work to blow Garden apart, he wondered if he’d ever really known them.

Selphie, understanding better than anyone else could in this moment in time, let Seifer take the lead. Whenever he was ready to confront them, she would be beside him. He knew that. After taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on Hyperion’s hilt, and called out, “Fuu. Rai.”

They whirled around at the sound of his voice, as in-sync with each other as the three of them had once been. Now that he was staring into their eyes, he felt his anger from before swirling in the pit of his stomach, threatening to consume him.

Fighting to keep his voice steady, he asked, “Why?”

That was all it took to convey the pain he was feeling: one word, nothing more.

Fujin and Raijin shared a heavy look, before facing him again. Raijin shook his head as if he couldn’t believe that Seifer was standing right in front of them, that he’d been the one to catch them in the act. Funny, Seifer felt the same.

Finally, Fujin said, “For you.”

Her voice nearly broke him. It was just as raspy as he remembered, but there was a new level of determination in it, in her eye. He was thankful that they didn’t try to deny their guilt. It would’ve been an offense to the memory of their friendship, to _him_.

“Bullshit,” Seifer spat. “I don’t buy that. For me? I would’ve never fuckin’ asked you to do this. Never.”

Raijin stepped forward, throwing his arms out to the side. “You didn’t have to, ya know? We saw you, Seifer. Saw you after the war, after what Garden did to you.”

Fujin nodded. “So we did it for you.”

Selphie scoffed in disbelief. “But all this death . . . it was for nothing, don’t you two see that? You may have thought you were doing this for Seifer, but this isn’t the way to go about it! Killing people never is! He learned that, so where were you guys when he learned better?”

Seifer looked over at Selphie and shook his head imperceptibly. At his signal, she stepped back again, sighing in consent. When he faced Fujin and Raijin again, he could see that Fujin was not happy with Selphie’s response. Instead of her speaking, though, it was Raijin who chose to reply.

"You wouldn’t get it, Selphie! You weren’t with him like we were! We followed him to the end of the world— _we_ did! Not you! Sure, you guys did what me and Fuu couldn’t do in the end, but . . . you didn’t see him—” All of Raijin’s energy faded, and he muttered the end of his tirade. “— _broken_ like we did.”

“You’re wrong,” Selphie insisted. “I may not have seen him the way you two did, but I still _saw_ him. We still helped each other leave our pasts behind. We _all_ helped him, Raijin. All of us. But this?” She gestured around them. “This is not helping.”

Raijin just shook his head, and Fujin glanced behind them at the bomb. The timer was now ticking away; she must’ve activated it when Seifer and Selphie had been climbing down to confront them. When she faced them again, she clenched her jaw, determined.

“We won’t stop. Even if you can’t see it,” Fujin explained as she looked at Seifer, “we know we’re doing the right thing. This _is_ the right thing. All Garden does is hurt people. They take children in and force them to—” She paused to take a deep breath since her voice began to fade from speaking so much. “—become killers, to do their bidding for _money_. They don’t care who they stomp on, or whose lives they ruin. Seifer never achieved his dream, he never became anything. All that hard work, all that . . . _effort_ , for nothing. This is us taking revenge for him.”

Seifer raised Hyperion and pointed it at them, his face twisting with anger. “Don’t fuckin’ talk about me like I’m not standin’ right here!”

Fujin closed her mouth with a snap and stared at Seifer with apathy. He returned her look, but his was filled with barely restrained hatred—an emotion he never thought he could feel towards Fujin. “I never asked you to take revenge for me. I never asked for _any_ of this to happen. I’m sorry, Fujin, I—” He lowered his arm, cocking back Hyperion’s hammer in preparation. “I can’t let you do this. Not in my name.”

They all sensed the turn in the air. The second Fujin reached for her chakram, Selphie blew past Seifer and threw a Blizzaga in Fujin and Raijin’s direction. Immediately after the ice solidified, she followed up with an Aero, shattering the ice and sending it flying towards Fujin and Raijin. Seifer feinted right as she moved left, flanking the duo.

Seifer swung Hyperion down towards Raijin, intending on dealing the final blow right here, right now. At the last second, Raijin’s large frame emerged from the ice dust. He swung his staff up to parry Seifer’s blow, and the shock that rippled down Hyperion’s blade pushed Raijin off balance. Unfortunately, it also caused Hyperion to glance off the end of Raijin’s staff. The tip scraped along the metal floor as Seifer retaliated by swinging Hyperion up and under, catching Raijin in the side.

Raijin fell to one knee, clutching the fresh wound on his ribs. He looked up at Seifer in surprise, as if he hadn’t believed Seifer would really attack them. Seifer too, though he would never admit it aloud, was shocked at his own violence. He’d wanted—needed—answers, he’d wanted his friends to pay for what they’d done to Trabia and Galbadia, but . . . had _this_ been the way he’d wanted things to go down?

As he and Raijin were staring at one another, Selphie swung her nunchakus and caught Fujin in the jaw, sending her flying backwards towards the console. The loud crack pulled Seifer’s attention away from Raijin, and he looked up at where Fujin had landed. She was draped over the console, seemingly knocked out—or at least, the little voice in the back of his mind hoped that was true, and not the alternative. He didn’t think Selphie could deal a killing blow that easily, but then again . . . they were all capable of questionable things in dire circumstances.

They were mercenaries.

Pain shot up his leg and he buckled, cradling his shattered shin. While he’d been preoccupied with Fujin, Raijin had swung his staff up and caught him off-guard. “Damn it!” he exclaimed as Raijin jumped to his feet and launched himself towards Selphie.

Raijin swung his staff again, aiming for Selphie’s side. With his immense strength, he could easily break Selphie’s ribs. Seifer panicked, and before Raijin’s staff could hit its mark, Seifer threw a Stop spell towards Raijin.

Raijin froze in mid-swing, his face scrunched in concentration. Selphie immediately leaped out of the way of Raijin’s staff, scurrying over to Seifer’s side. “Do you . . . do you think we can bring them both in? I’ll take Fujin, you take Raijin?”

With his chest heaving, Seifer looked back over at Fujin. “No. She’s gonna wake up any minute, and that Stop isn’t gonna last forever. We need to—”

“The bomb!” Selphie exclaimed, turning back towards the console.

Fujin was no longer unconscious. She was crouched down beside the bomb again, her likely broken jaw tucked into her chest for support. They could hear a sequence of rapid beeps coming from the bomb, and Seifer sprinted towards her.

“Fujin! Stop!” he shouted, his hand outstretched. “You can’t do this!”

The last he saw of her was her eye, filled to the brim with tears as she glanced over her shoulder at him. He raised Hyperion, tip pointed at her, ready to be driven through her chest, when she was completely consumed by flames. The strength of the heat forced him back, and he shielded his face with his forearm. By the time he looked at her again, the burnt husk that had once been Fujin had collapsed to the floor.

"Wha . . .” Seifer sputtered. When he finally pulled his gaze away from Fujin’s corpse, he looked back at Selphie. She was standing in the middle of the walkway, hand outstretched towards the console; the Firaga spell had come from her.

Her arm was shaking—no, all of her was trembling like she could barely hold herself up. A second later, her other hand came up and nestled under her outstretched hand, supporting the weight. It was her face that terrified Seifer the most. He’d never seen her look so empty, so . . . dead.

With numb legs, he shuffled over to her. “Selphie . . .”

All she did was shake her head, her eyes trained on Fujin. “The bomb, we . . . we have to—”

“Don’t worry! I’ve got it!” Nida shouted out of nowhere as he flew past them. Seifer twisted around, watching Nida as he stumbled when he saw Fujin’s corpse. Nida stared at her body for a moment, before shifting his gaze away. With tense shoulders, he crouched down beside the bomb—beside _her_ —and started fiddling with it.

Seifer took the opportunity to look back at Selphie, who was still frozen in the same position she’d been in when she’d cast the spell. He lowered his eyes, focusing on nothing in particular, and yet everything all at once. Hesitantly, he reached up, encircling her wrist with his own hand.

“Selphie . . . it’s over,” he mumbled.

Again, she shook her head. Just in front of them, Raijin’s cry of shock, of disbelief and horror, rang out. Seifer cringed at the sound, looking over at his former friend. Raijin raced towards Nida, though whether he was trying to go to Fujin or stop Nida, Seifer wasn’t entirely sure. He couldn’t risk everything and wait to find out, so he threw another Stop spell at Raijin, freezing him in mid-step right behind Nida.

They’d deal with Raijin later. Right now, Selphie was his main concern.

When she didn’t respond to his touch, he let go of her wrist and cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Selphie.”

She blinked, causing tears to slide down her face, pooling just under her chin. “ . . . What?”

“It’s over. You can let go now,” he murmured.

 As if on cue, her arm dropped to her side and she seemed to curl in on herself. “It’s over, isn’t it? Really over?”

“ _This_ is. We’ll deal with the rest later.” He pulled away, shoving his hand into his pocket as he rested Hyperion against his thigh. “You didn’t . . . You didn’t have to do that for me.”  
With glassy eyes, she looked up at him, lashes dewy with her tears. “Yes. I did.”  
They stared at each other in silence, her crying, and him fighting to swallow the lump in his throat. Off in the distance, through a thick fog that made it sound like he was underwater, he heard Nida shouting something, though he couldn’t pick out specific words.  
Selphie turned away from him, staring ahead at Fujin’s corpse again. “It’s really over,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. Without warning, her knees buckled, and Seifer caught her before she hit the ground.  
“Really over,” she kept muttering, her eyes open but unseeing.

 To his surprise, he felt stinging in his eyes. He swept her the sweat-soaked strands of hair out of her face, before swinging his arm under her legs. After straightening, Selphie cradled in his arms, he looked back at Fujin and Raijin one last time. After this, after walking away from them, everything would change.

 But then, everything already had.

 “Yeah, Selphie. It’s really over.”

  
  
  
  
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

Seven days later, Selphie stood in front of Quistis’ desk while the headmistress moved some papers around on her desk absentmindedly as she read them. Selphie stood silently, waiting, eyes gazing upwards to where someone she didn’t know drove Garden--or, they would if Garden was moving. She liked it better when Nida was driving, but also, she realized, she liked it best when Nida was with her, so in the end it worked out okay.

Though, if things worked out how she expected, Nida would no longer be her partner. He’d be on his own missions, and honestly, that would be good for him. He’d spent most of his SeeD life attached to Selphie, always second. He deserved a mission of his actual own that didn’t involve driving an ancient Centra device around the world.

When Quistis finished reading, she moved her hand away from the paper and looked up at Selphie with an unreadable expression. “So you’re resigning.”

“After the situation with Sanctus is resolved,” Selphie corrected. “Of course, I don’t know how long that’ll take, but . . .”

Quistis gave the tiniest of smiles and pushed herself to her feet. “Selphie,” she said in a soft voice, “is there anything you want to tell me?”

Selphie’s eyes widened a moment, then she said, “Are you not going to accept my resignation?”

“No, I will,” Quistis said, waving a hand in the air that she tucked away when she folded her arms. “You very clearly spelled out an understandable reason for resigning, and I respect that. I’m not asking as headmistress, I’m asking as your friend.”

She brought her shoulders in. “I just keep thinking about . . .” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” The two of them locked eyes silently for a few moments, then as Quistis opened her mouth, Selphie quickly said, “No, I’m sorry. I . . . I’m just thinking about . . . about Fujin.”

Quistis’ face darkened, but she nodded and took a seat, gesturing for Selphie to do so as well. “I see,” she said. “It’s different when it’s someone you know.”

“Or someone that someone you know loves,” Selphie murmured, carefully taking a seat on the very edge of the chair. “But I couldn’t . . . let him do it himself. He’d hate himself for forever, and he’s already hated himself for long enough.”

A lightness entered Quistis’ eyes, but she said nothing.

Selphie took a steadying breath. “I know I’m a mercenary. I know it’s part of the job description sometimes. And maybe that’s why . . . finally facing that, it just helped me realize that leaving Garden is what’s best for me. It’s not the only reason . . .” She glanced at the papers on the desk.

“I know,” Quistis said with acknowledging nod.

“The war was different,” Selphie said firmly. “And I was younger then. But I like what I did in Esthar. I would want to go back in the future. But I can’t leave now because Sanctus is still out there, and as long as they want to hurt Garden, as long as they’re planning to hurt Garden . . .” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I asked Seifer if he would help me stop them, after we stopped the attack on Balamb a week ago. He said he couldn’t answer. I had planned on asking him again, but now . . .”

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?” Quistis asked. 

When Selphie’s head snapped up, she saw the tenderness in Quistis’ eyes and felt her cheeks grow hot. “I just . . . don’t want him to have to see the person who killed a member of his family. That would just hurt him more, you know. I’m not . . . I’m not a cruel person--or I try not to be.”

Quistis leaned forward, reaching out a hand towards Selphie. “I know you’re not, Selphie. Everyone knows.”

After brief hesitation, Selphie set her hand in Quistis’.

“Have you spoken with him?” Quistis asked.

Selphie’s brows furrowed and she stared at their hands. “He came to visit me when I was in the infirmary, but I was pretending to be asleep. When Dr. Kadowaki discharged me, I just sort of . . . avoided him.”

For long minutes, they said nothing. Quistis’ thumb ran along the side of Selphie’s hand. Then she pulled away, and in a professional tone, asked, “As for your request, you of course may continue to work on the Sanctus case. But I have been informed by Dr. Kadowaki that she has forbidden you from returning to work for two months. Squall and Nida will be heading the task force in the interim, including the interrogation of Raijin.”

She winced at Raijin’s name. He’d been the most devastated at Fujin’s loss. Selphie couldn’t even begin to imagine facing him ever again. He had no reason to forgive her. They had no memories at the orphanage when they were young, or any memories at all outside the war, and even then . . .

“I understand,” she said, in a stronger voice than she felt.

“As for your resignation, upon the conclusion of our efforts against Sanctus, whenever that may be, we can further discuss your options. I’m sure President Loire would love to hire you on again, but as Selphie Tilmitt rather than SeeD Tilmitt. If not, there are plenty of avenues, and I would be happy to assist in any way I can, if you’ll let me,” Quistis said.

Selphie smiled. “Of course. Thanks, Quisty.”

“Honestly, depending on how this all unfolds, you may not be alone,” Quistis said.

“What do you mean?” Selphie asked.

Quistis just gave an easy smile and waved the question away. “The politics of the world. Just a feeling, anyway, nothing based in too much fact.” She stood again. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, Selphie?”

Selphie stood as well. “No. I think I’m going to finally clean out my room, though.”

“Already?” Quistis asked in surprise.

“I haven’t used it in ten years; I’m not about to start again. It’s just takin’ up space,” she said.

“I see what you mean,” Quistis said. “Well, if you need anything else, please feel free to come talk to me. I can always make time for you, Selphie.”

Selphie felt her cheeks go warm again, though it was different than before. She gave a bright smile, saluted, and saw herself out. Down the elevator, she glanced out the glass at the students walking the corridors. They had been so scared during the evacuation, but ever since, they seemed to think the threat was over. They even threw a party. Only the staff and the SeeDs seemed to really understand this was only the very beginning of the struggle against Sanctus and public opinion.

She shook her head of the thoughts, focusing on the now. The elevator came to a stop and she headed quickly to her old room. Unlike Seifer’s, all her stuff was still in there, untouched except for some cleaning by the janitorial staff. Her hand hovered by the lightswitch, but after some thought, she lowered her hand and let it stay dark.

The first thing she noticed was the poster of Leviathan above her bed. Funny she had found the guardian force again in Seifer’s possession, of all people. Before, the poster gave her delight, but now it just made her sad. She hadn’t junctioned a GF until a week ago, when she had subsequently used a Firaga to roast Fujin alive. Then, it had definitely been an emergency, but now the thought of using a GF for magic sickened her. She was Selphie, a SeeD, who had taken an oath, and who didn’t need guardian forces anymore. Not even in an emergency.

That meant saying a permanent goodbye to her three friends, but the thought of it almost excited her now. Leaving Garden, getting rid of her GFs, seeing her friends again, it was all the end of an era and the start of a new one. And she had to admit, the coming years already looked better than the past ten she’d lived. She was free to be her own self, no longer shackled down by Ultimecia, by time compression, by Seifer, by Garden.

Quistis was right: soon she would be just Selphie Tilmitt. And maybe that’s the way it had always meant to be. Garden had been there for the sorceress. Fate had willed her to be a part of that mission. But that was over now. She could be free to choose her own fate.

She knelt on her bed and slowly peeled the poster off of the ceiling. Then she curled it up into a cylinder and wrapped a rubber band around it to keep it together.

Someone knocked on the door. She set the poster on the bed and carefully tiptoed her way over to the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the button. The door slid open and there stood Seifer, an annoyed look on his face and something in his hand.

_Shit!_

Seifer put his hand over the door to keep it from closing and then lifted what appeared to be a leather jacket. Right on time.

“The hell is this, Tilmitt?” he asked.

“A new jacket, it looks like. Did you buy it from Balamb? They have nice jackets there,” she said innocently, nonchalantly, wishing he would leave. It was painful just to look at him. “I can’t remember the name of the shop; it’s been so long.”

Seifer narrowed his eyes. “Really? You didn’t buy it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have the kind of money for that. Ha ha, it’s gotta be at least 4000 gil, right?”

“It is 4000 gil,” Seifer said. “Stop lying, Tilmitt. Nida told me everything.”

_Hynedamn it, Nida._

“Does he know you know his name?” she asked.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Seifer said.

Selphie sighed and turned away, walking back into the room. The door closed a moment later, but of course Seifer had come into the room with her. She crossed an arm over her torso. “So what if I did buy you a jacket? I ruined your other one, you know. It’s not a big deal.”

“Four thousand gil may not be a lot to you, but it’s a fuck-ton of money to me,” Seifer said.

She was quiet, her eyes gazing around her room. When her eyes stopped on a particular box, she said, “Hey, this is my old room, ya know? So watch this--I haven’t done this in forever.” She skipped over to the box, sifting through it until her hands wrapped around a remote control. It was hard to see in the darkness, but eventually her memory guided her finger to the right button and suddenly there was light: dim faerie lights blinked around the top of the room.

“Faerie lights! I put them in here first night of being a SeeD, right before the party,” Selphie said.

Behind her, Seifer was looking at the lights in slight wonder. The way it reflected out of his cerulean eyes was almost beautiful. And in that moment he looked so innocent and even adorable. If only she hadn’t murdered his friend seven days ago. If only she could be genuinely playful with him like she had before. It had been nice spending time with him, confiding in him, being silly with him. He was the last person she expected to befriend like that, but here he was, standing there even after what she’d done. Maybe then he didn’t hate her, but he should have.

He looked at her and she quickly averted her eyes, walking over to the bed and holding the poster up. “Leviathan. You want it?”

Seifer frowned and made an exasperated noise. “No, Selphie, I don’t want . . .” He sighed, then reached out and took the poster from her.

Selphie put her hands behind her back. “I’m going to clean out my room. Maybe sell my things off or just give it away. There’s a lot of good stuff in here; I’m sure there’ll be lots of kids here who want it.” She looked over at a framed picture of her and Zell from the SeeD party. He had a hot dog stuffed in his mouth as he tried to smile, and she was holding a glass of wine she’d stolen from a staff member. Back then she sure had winked and stuck her tongue out. Sometimes she still did it, but now it just felt too silly.

“And where you going after that?” Seifer asked.

She looked at him quickly, mouth open to reply, but nothing came out. _I wanna ask, but I can’t. You should just leave, Seifer. Your mission is over. You can go back to Winhill and you don’t have to ever worry about being bothered by me again._

As she looked at him, as he waited for her to say something, she thought about the way he’d held her after the confrontation with Fujin and Raijin. It had been so warm in his arms. The second half of it she’d passed out, but she remembered going through the MD level towards the elevator. He was looking ahead determinedly and she was only thinking how sorry she was, how much she wanted to apologize to him, but nothing came out. She could only lie there, thinking she wasn’t worthy to be held so tenderly by him.

And there her cheeks went again, warming up, probably turning pink. “Maybe Esthar. Or maybe I’ll just keep hopping around from town to town. There’s a lot to see, ya know.” Her eyes lowered. “I suppose you’re going back to Winhill.”

He too was quiet for a moment before answering. “Yeah, that’s right. Least for a while.”

Selphie glanced at the jacket, then back at him. “Did you try it on? Does it even fit? I had to guess your size.”

“It fits fine.”

She smiled. “I’m glad,” she said quietly. Then she cleared her throat and turned around, staring at her room. “I didn’t remember having so much stuff. This might take a while, so I probably won’t see you for quite some time.”

Silence.

Eventually she looked over her shoulder, but Seifer was staring at nothing, looking lost in thought. She just took in the features of his face, his scar and lips mostly, and then looked forward again.

After a minute, she heard his heavy footsteps, and then something draped over her shoulders. With its arrival, the claws that had clung to her for so long finally loosened fully and fell away into nothingness. When she looked down, she saw Seifer’s leather jacket. Her hand lifted a little to gently touch it, quickly squeezing the fabric with tight fingers.

“You look like you could use it more than me,” he said, and she forced herself not to look back at him. “But I’m not giving it to you or anything, okay, Tilmitt? I’m lending it. I expect it back next time I see you.”

She smiled again.

His footsteps moved across the floor again, and she realized too late their direction. By the time she turned around, she could only see a flash of his blond hair before the door closed. She pulled the jacket tighter around her. It still smelled new, but he’d worn it at least once, probably to try it on, make sure it fit.

She was glad he’d stopped by before leaving. It had hurt her core to see him again, but Quistis was right: she had grown fond of him over the months. He was an asshole a lot of the time, and he cared about things far more than he let on, but he was sincere, and he did work hard. When she’d hired him on, of course she expected him to actually help, but not to the degree he had. Given some time, he would have made a damned good SeeD. They could have been on missions together if Ultimecia hadn’t decided to destroy the world.

Either way, she was glad to have met up with him again. There was something exhilarating about being in his presence, even when she was annoyed with him. And though things were . . . bad right now, that would change, just like all the badness from the war had gone away. She’d changed, and so had Seifer.

_Change or don’t change. I’ll still be me. I’ll always still be me._

So she’d give it some time, and then start again if she felt up to it. Though she’d just told him she wouldn’t bother him ever again, it had to happen anyway, didn’t it? And despite her words, he’d even said he’d see her again, so she could give his jacket back.

Selphie smiled and slipped her arms in through the sleeves. The jacket was way too big for her, but it was comfy and warm.

She hadn’t run after Irvine. Honestly, she’d never run after anyone. But it seemed like she was about to with Seifer, in a way. It was still surprising her, and it probably would for a while, but she was fine with it. More than fine.

She liked hanging around with that blond, blue-eyed jerk!

With a little laugh, she went to the wall and turned on the main lights in the room. She was excited to clear all this stuff out, maybe find some things she had forgotten about--had wanted to forget about. But everything was good now, all her memories, even the bad ones from the war, because without them, she wouldn’t be who she was today. And she liked who she was now, she realized. _I’m not a sad mess or anything. I’m just Selphie._

She owed it to her friends, she owed it to Matron and Edea, she owed it to Laguna and the people in Esthar, she owed it to Tadao Nida, and she owed it to herself for hanging in there.

Most of all she owed it to Seifer Almasy.

Thinking of them all brought a big smile to her face.

_Thank you._


	14. Chapter 14

Seifer never would have thought that walking away from Selphie—out her door, out of her life—could be so difficult. Hell, it had been easier leaving Fujin and Raijin nearly ten years ago and sailing off into the sunset. But leaving her _had_ been hard. He wasn’t an idiot; he could tell that she’d been avoiding him for the past week, since . . . since Fujin. The rare moments that he did speak to her, she’d been . . . different—a warped version of Selphie that more resembled the Selphie he’d first met, all those weeks ago in Centra. To be fair, he hadn’t exactly made the effort to seek her out either.

As soon as her door slid shut behind him, he knew without a doubt he’d made the right decision.

They needed time apart. Selphie needed to come to terms with what had happened with Fujin and Raijin, what she’d done, and Seifer needed to just come to terms with everything in general. He didn’t blame Selphie for what she’d done, not in the slightest. He, of all people, knew how difficult it was to hurt the people you cared about, the people you loved. Even during the elevator ride down to the MD level, he’d still been struggling with the weight of the actions he knew would come to pass. She’d done something for him that was far beyond a simple favor, or even a complex one, and he knew he’d never be able to thank her for shouldering that weight on his behalf. Still . . . he needed time. Judging by the way she’d been avoiding him, he figured she did, too. 

And so he left.

Without a backward glance in Garden’s direction, he stalked out the front gate and down the path toward Balamb proper, Hyperion slung over his shoulder. Before he rounded the bend, he veered off to his right, heading down a smaller, dirt path. After passing under a wrought-iron archway, he stepped into Balamb Garden’s formal cemetery. According to Quistis, it had been erected sometime after the war, to honor the SeeDs who had fallen. Knowing that, he was left with a feeling of disquiet as he wove in and out of the headstones, heading for a fresh grave he knew was towards the back.

He had no right to be here, amongst the tombstones of people he’d likely killed, whether inadvertently or intentionally, but he had one final goodbye to make. 

Many had protested about her being buried here, in the presence of SeeDs that people considered to be heroes. But at one point in time, she’d been just like them, and Seifer had insisted that she receive, at the very least, that final honor. Whether she deserved it or not was a completely different matter, but it was one he no longer had the energy to try and figure out. 

After sticking Hyperion into the soft ground beside her headstone, tip first, he crouched down and brushed a few clumps of dirt away from her grave. He clasped his hands between his legs, tracing the letters on her headstone with his eyes. It was strange. He’d felt such . . . heartbreak, such anger, at seeing her standing opposite from him again, as an enemy and not as a friend. It was something he didn’t think he’d experience twice in one lifetime. But now, staring down at the lilies someone had etched into the stone, he was overcome with a sense of . . . peace. This whole business with Sanctus wasn’t over, but at least Fujin would get to rest.

A few minutes passed with him simply _being_ there, with her and yet not. Finally, he murmured, “Time for me to go, Fuu,” and his words were eaten by the passing wind.

Seifer rose to his feet, yanked Hyperion out of the dirt, and continued on towards town. He had one last stop to make, though it wasn’t quite a goodbye, and then he’d head back for home. 

Again, he didn’t once look behind him. The only way to go from here was forward.

  


_One month later._

  


“Good gracious, child, it’s like you didn’t even _try_ to keep them alive!”

From across the flower shop, Seifer rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, you keep harpin’ me about these Hynedamned flowers! I think they look pretty fuckin’ good—”

“Language,” Amma harped.

“What-fuckin’-ever. Anyway, as I was sayin’, they look pretty good, all things considered.” He bent down at the base of a trellis, pulling off errant leaves that were sprouting in the wrong places.

“Hmm. You mean considering you up and abandoned the shop for weeks at a time?”

Again, Seifer sighed, his shoulders drooping ever-so-slightly. “I already told you I was sorry about that. Shit came up that I couldn’t—”

“I know, I know,” Amma interrupted him, coming up behind him to hand him the watering can. “You had to go and save the world all over again.”

Under his breath, he muttered, “I didn’t exactly _save_ it the first time, but all right.”

“Oh, and your awful dog keeps barking at the door. Go feed him or something!” 

“Ah hell,” Seifer cursed, rising to his feet again. “He probably just needs to go outside.”

“So take him outside. Be a responsible pet owner.”

“Hyne, that’s what I’m doing! Will you stop nagging? You’ve been ten times worse since you got back from Esthar a couple weeks ago.” 

He never heard Amma’s response because he walked away from her and into her living room. Behind the short wooden fence propped inside of the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, Boko was barking at the top of his lungs, trying to get someone, anyone’s, attention. 

Since Seifer had brought the little mongrel home from Rinoa’s shelter, Boko had been glued to his side. When Seifer had first seen him, he’d assumed Boko was at least a couple of years old, judging from his size. Turns out, he’d only been six months old—a puppy still. Seifer couldn’t bear to leave him home alone, all day long while he went out for monster patrol and to help Amma with the shop. So, his next best plan had been to bring him to Amma’s so she could watch the mutt while Seifer patrolled, and then at least he’d be nearby and get to run around, albeit still in a confined space. 

As he walked closer, Boko’s barks increased in volume. “Yeah, I see you, I see you.” Once he stood in front of the gate, he pulled it out of the frame and moved it aside, propping it up against the wall. “Let’s go outside.”

Boko circled Seifer, letting out a chain of barks that sounded significantly happier than before. He sat down beside Seifer, waiting for his master’s command with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Seifer chuckled at his dog’s expression, patting his thigh as he migrated back into the shop; Boko followed right on his heels.

There was a little stretch of grass right across the dirt road from Amma’s which had become Boko’s territory. After they crossed the street, Boko stuck his nose to the ground and sniffed along the edge of the grass. A few feet down the way, he finally lifted his leg to pee. Seifer watched him with his arms crossed, shaking his head at Boko slightly.

How would it be to be so easily pleased? 

_Maybe now would be a good time for a break, anyway._ Seifer turned away from Boko and wandered over to the closest tree. He slid down the trunk, and after making sure Boko was still close by, he leaned his head back and let his eyes close. A light breeze drifted past, ruffling the ends of his hair—he’d recently had Amma cut it, and the ends were now grazing the tops of his ears instead of the nape of his neck. 

The weather in Winhill was generally pretty nice. On occasion, the nights got a bit chilly, and the mid-summer days were a tad bit too warm at high noon, but it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Still, he sometimes found himself missing the temperate climate of Balamb. He’d never live in Balamb again—there were far too many memories there—but sitting on the beach, heels dug into the sand, would never be _un_ enjoyable. 

With his eyes still closed, he scoffed. _Never thought I’d say that, even to myself._

In the distance, Boko barked. _Stupid mutt, barkin’ at birds again. Ah hell, I better take him back inside._

With the slightest sigh, Seifer rose to his feet, eyes trained on the grass below him. After brushing off his pants, he looked up and whistled for Boko. After a second’s hesitation, Boko came bounding towards him with another joyful bark. He held out his hand for Boko, but was surprised when Boko barrelled past him and headed down the road instead.

“Hey! Get back here you damn mutt!” Seifer shouted, whirling around.

Just down the way, Boko was running circles around Selphie Tilmitt. She teetered on her heel, laughing as she tried to follow Boko around. Once she got both of her feet back on the ground, she knelt down and fluffed the hair around Boko’s neck with a wide smile on her face.

Boko’s only answer was another bark of pure glee. Seifer stared at them, equal parts hesitant and glad to see her. After a moment of uncertainty, he made his way over to join them.

His boots scuffed against the dirt, and when he was only a few steps away, Selphie finally straightened and looked right at him with those bright emerald eyes. A tentative smile lifted the corners of her lips, and he returned what felt like a similar smile—though, if he was being honest, his face felt kind of numb. What the hell was the appropriate reaction to seeing her, when he’d expected not to? _Ever_ again?

“Well, he looks familiar,” Selphie noted, patting Boko on the head again. 

Boko plopped down right beside her, his front paw resting on the top of her boot. He stared up at her with a wide grin, panting with sheer happiness. _Little traitor._

“He should,” Seifer replied with a shrug.

“You know, I . . . I went back to Rinoa’s to actually adopt him.”

“Oh?” _Hyne, I’m a regular conversationalist today. Get your act together, Almasy._

“Yeah, a couple of days ago.”

“And she said?”

“That _you’d_ adopted him, right before leaving town. I said, ‘How ‘bout that?’ and that was that.”

Seifer nodded, unsure of what he was supposed to say back to that. As he continued to stare at her, he realized she was wearing the jacket she’d bought him, the one that had cost 4000 gil that he’d said he was lending to her and expected back. He’d told her it had fit him just fine, which was true, but somehow it looked better on her.

A few minutes of silence later, he finally asked, “So . . . what are you doing here?” 

Selphie laughed, sounding nervous. She rubbed the back of her neck and said, “Isn’t that the million gil question?”

“If you answer, can I have a million gil?” he quipped, deadpan.

This time, her laugh sounded real. “I already told you how much gil I have, Seifer. Definitely not a million. Plus you owe me 4000 gil for this,” she retorted, fingering the jacket’s lapel.

“It was a gift.”

A fond smile spread across her face, and she lowered her gaze. “Yeah, it was.”

The silence that filled the air between them seemed less tense this time around, and Selphie looked over at the stretch of grass. “This uh, this yours and Boko’s little haunt?”

“How’d you know I kept his name Boko?”

“Because Boko’s the name of that one chocobo from the kid’s show. The one with the extra fluffy tail feathers? Why would you _not_?”

_Of course_ that’s _her logic._

Opting to only answer her first question, Seifer nodded. “Yeah, that’s our ‘haunt’.”

“I’m surprised you’re not at home,” she noted, switching subjects again.

Under his breath, Seifer chuckled. Selphie Tilmitt was nervous. Before, he never would’ve guessed that’s why having a conversation with her used to be so jarring, but he knew better now—knew _her_ better now.

“Got a job, Tilmitt. I gotta make ends meet somehow.”

“You work _here_?” she asked, looking over at the flower shop.

“Yeah, with an old hag named Amma.”

“I’m sure she’s not a hag.”

“Oh, you just wait.”

“Can I meet her?”

Seifer leaned back, surprised. “Uh . . . sure?”

With a confident stride, Selphie walked right past him and into the flower shop—with Boko, no less. He shook his head at her, again, and followed after her. The bell above the door jingled upon his entrance, but neither one of the women looked over at him.

Selphie held her hand out to Amma with a smile, and Amma, looking surprised but a bit confused, took it. 

“Hi! It’s good to see you again, Amma!”

“Well, I’ll be . . . if it isn’t the kind young lady from Esthar! What in the world are you doing here in Winhill?” Amma asked, setting her watering can down on the counter.

“Here to visit a friend.” Selphie jerked her head at Seifer as Boko let out another bark.

“A friend, hm?” Amma looked over Seifer too, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

_Here we go._ “I’d introduce you two, but it seems like you already know one another,” Seifer commented, leaning against the windowsill closest to Selphie.

“You didn’t tell me a _friend_ was visiting, Seifer,” Amma reprimanded him, the twinkle growing brighter.

“I didn’t know a _friend_ was,” he said defensively with a shrug.

Selphie faced Seifer with a glare. “Hey, we’ve gone over this.”

Again, he shrugged. When Selphie turned back to Amma, the two women got embroiled in a conversation about the last time they’d seen each other and how Seifer must be the “nice young man” Amma had mentioned to Selphie in Esthar. He scoffed, musing about how Amma would never say that about him and mean it. Who would?

He clucked his tongue, and Boko bounded back to his side. With a nod in Selphie and Amma’s direction, he headed outside again. They crossed the mini-field and headed down the slope towards the cliff face. It was close to sunset, and at the end of every day, he liked to come down here and watch the waves, wind down from the heat and the craziness. Small town life was less hectic in some ways, and more so in others, he’d learned.

After he sank down onto the ground and draped his legs over the edge, Boko sidled up to him on the right and stared out over the ocean with him. For a dog who was so young, he didn’t seem to have any issues with just sitting still sometimes. 

Seifer wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard someone coming down the slope. Light steps, short stride, slight hop right before another step happened: it was Selphie. When she reached him, she paused for a second before sliding her legs under the metal railing and sitting next to him on the left.

To his surprise, she didn’t say anything. The three of them sat there, staring out at the water for a good few minutes in silence.

Finally, she looked over at him. “How’ve you been?”

He offered a small shrug. “I’ve . . . been. You?” he asked, looking over at her.

The corner of her lips twitched. “I’ve been.”

“How’s the case?”

“I don’t know,” Selphie admitted with a shake of her head. She started swinging her legs back and forth as she added, “Dr. Kadowaki placed me on a two month recovery watch. I can’t join the team until the end of this month.”

“Shit.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “It is what it is. Last time, I fought against her advice and refused to just sit, you know? I had to go-go-go, and eventually . . . well, you saw. This time, I think it’s been for the best.”

“Hm.”

They fell silent again, and a few seconds later, she leaned over and nudged him. “There is something I wanted to do. Part of the reason I came here.”

“Yeah?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out four glistening stones of various colors, cradling them in her palm; Ifrit, Carbuncle, Cerberus, and Diablos. “I—It’s time to say goodbye, I think . . . for good. I wanted to do what Rinoa did, you know? Just . . . throw them into the water, along with my attachment—my dependance—on them.”

“Couldn’t you do that in Balamb?”

As if surprised, her eyes shot up to his. “Well . . . yeah, I guess I could’ve. Not the point, though! I wanted to do it here!”

“Okay, okay. So do it here.”

“Will you do it with me?”

Seifer leaned back, inspecting her face. A brief moment of hesitation passed through him, but eventually, he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Leviathan was never really mine to begin with anyway.” He reached into the tiny pocket on the front of his jeans and pulled out the semi-translucent, cerulean stone. 

Selphie slid backwards, pulling her legs up so she could stand. Seifer followed suit, and they both looked over the railing at the ocean. Curious, Boko too looked up at them with a slight, curious tilt to his head.

“On three?” Selphie asked, winding her hand back over her shoulder.

“Whenever you’re ready, Tilmitt.”

“Okay! One . . . two . . . three!”

They both launched the summoning stones over the railing and down the cliff face. With a succession of deep plunks, all five stones sank below the surface and into the seemingly bottomless depths. It was strange. He’d never been particularly attached to Leviathan, or even summoning GFs in general, but with the stone gone he felt . . . lighter, freer. Judging by the slight smile on Selphie’s face, it was a feeling she shared.

Without a word, she bent over and leaned the side of her head against his upper arm. He moved to lean away, caught off guard, but at the last second, he froze. To his surprise, he didn’t want to move away. There was something unexpectedly _nice_ about this whole thing—about her, about being here with her, about . . . everything, really. So instead, he straightened, and looked out over the water again.

After a minute or two had gone by, Seifer asked, “So . . . you just came here to throw those damn stones into the water then, huh?” 

“No, dumbass. I came to return your jacket.”

“Oh, so now I’m a dumbass?”

Selphie pulled away with a teasing smile, walking backwards up the incline. “When you ask stupid questions . . .” She trailed off, turning away from him as her smile widened.

“Get the hell back here, Tilmitt. I’ll show you ‘stupid questions’.”

Their voices faded into the distance as they made their way back up the hill, leaving behind more than they’d expected to at the cliffs, but also just enough, all at the same time. Boko let out one final bark at the cliff’s edge before racing after them.

Seifer had never been one to put much stock in fate. He preferred to follow his own path, dictate his own future. Despite how hard he tried to control every aspect of his life, it seemed like there were certain things he could never pin down. When they were kids, he’d teased Selphie relentlessly, cruelly sometimes, and now it seemed like she was the one who teased him. During the war, he’d hurt her beyond repair, destroyed everything she’d loved, and yet, here she was, repaired and loving again—still. Then this mission had happened, and he’d claimed he’d walk away from her and let her be, let her live her life without him in it, because all he could be was a burden. 

And yet, here she still was.

At the end of the day, maybe there were just some things he couldn’t ever shake. And maybe, there were some people he just didn’t _want_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! :) :) :) :) Please comment (and kudos if you liked it :D)


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